THE  INSIDE 
OF  THE  CUP 


CHURCHILL 


THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON  •    CHICAGO   •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LIMITED 

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TORONTO 


"  '  CAN'T  YOU  FBBL  THAT  YOU  ARE  AN  INDIVIDUAL,  A  PERSONALITY,  A 

FORCE  THAT   MIGHT   BE   PUT   TO  GREAT   USES?'  " 


THE  INSIDE  OF  THE   CUP 


BY 

WINSTON   CHURCHILL 

AUTHOR  OF  "RICHARD  CARVEL,"  "THE  CRIBIS,' 

"A  MODERN   CHRONICLE,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS   BY   HOWARD   GILES 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1913 

AU  rights  reserved 


COPYKIGHT,   1912  AND  1913, 

itf  HEARSTJS"  MA'G'4.2HNE. 


•ojY 
BY  THE  M'ACM  I  LL  A  N'     OMPANY. 


Set  up  and  clectrotyped.     Pnblishcd  May,  1913-     Reprinted 
July,  twice,  August,  three  times,  September,  October,  1913. 


. 


Nortoooti 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  — Berwick  «fc  Smith  Co, 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE  WARING  PROBLEMS      .        .        .        .        ,        .        1 

II.    MR.  LANGMAID'S  MISSION 15 

III.  THE  PRIMROSE  PATH  .        ...        .        .        .31 

IV.  SOME  RIDDLES  OF  THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY  .        .      44 
V.  THE  RECTOR  HAS  MORE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT  .        .      57 

VI.  "WATCHMAN,  WHAT  OF  THE  NIGHT?"             .        .80 

VII.  THE  KINGDOMS  OF  THE  WORLD          ....      91 

VIII.  THE  LINE  OF  LEAST  RESISTANCE       ....     103 

IX.  THE  DIVINE  DISCONTENT             .        .        .        .        .    116 

X.  THE  MESSENGER  IN  THE  CHURCH      .        .        .             136 

XL  THE  LOST  PARISHIONER       .        .        .        .     '  .        .     157 

XII.  THE  WOMAN  OF  THE  SONG         .        .        ...        .172 

XIII.  WINTERBOURNE     .        . 184 

XIV.  A  SATURDAY  AFTERNOON    .        .        .        .        .        .     198 

XV.    THE  CRUCIBLE .212 

XVI.  AMID  THE  ENCIRCLING  GLOOM    .....    228 

XVII.     RECONSTRUCTION 250 

XVIII.     THE  RIDDLE  OF  CAUSATION 265 

XIX.  MR.  GOODRICH  BECOMES  A  PARTISAN         .        .        .    295 

XX.     THE  ARRAIGNMENT 320 

XXI.     ALISON  GOES  TO  CHURCH 348 

XXII.  "WHICH    SAY   TO   THE    SEERS,    SEE   NOT!"               .           .      372 


M33968 


vi  TABLE   OF  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XXIII.  THE  CHOICE 394 

XXIV.  THE  VESTRY  MEETS 411 

XXV.  "  RISE,  CROWNED  WITH  LIGHT  !  "     .        .        .        .427 

XXVI.    THE  CURRENT  OF  LIFE 442 

XXVII.    RETRIBUTION 466 

XXVIII.  LIGHT.                                                                       ,    486 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  *  CAN'T  YOU  FEEL  THAT  YOU  ARE  AN  INDIVIDUAL,  A  PER 
SONALITY,  A  FORCE  THAT  MIGHT  BE  PUT  TO  GREAT 
USES?'"  . Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

"THE  TWO  SAT  GAZING  AT  EACH  OTHER  AS  FROM  MOUNTAIN 

PEAKS  ACROSS  IMPASSABLE  VALLEYS  "        ....      82 

" '  MY  GOD,  HOW  YOU  SCARED  ME  ! '  "        .        .        .        .        .    176 
"'I  GUESS  I  AIN'T  HUNGRY  AFTER  ALL'"        ....    238 

"'YOU'LL  WANT  MONEY  FOR  THESE  PEOPLE,  I  SUPPOSE,'  HE 

ADDED  BRUTALLY" 346 

" '  WHAT'S  YOUR  NAME  ? '  SHE  ASKED  " 350 


vii 


THE  INSIDE  OF  THE  CUP 


CHAPTER   I 

THE  WAKING   PROBLEMS 


WITH  few  exceptions,  the  incidents  recorded  in  these 
pages  take  place  in  one  of  the  largest  cities  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  and  of  that  portion  called  the 
Middle  West,  —  a  city  once  conservative  and  provin 
cial,  and  rather  proud  of  these  qualities ;  but  now  out 
grown  them,  and  linked  by  lightning  limited  trains  to 
other  teeming  centers  of  the  modern  world :  a  city  over 
taken,  in  recent  years,  by  the  plague  which  has  swept  our 
country  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  —  Prosperity. 
Before  its  advent,  the  Goodriches  and  Gores,  the  Warings, 
the  Preston  s  and  the  Atterburys  lived  leisurely  lives  in  a 
sleepy  quarter  of  shade  trees  and  spacious  yards  and 
muddy  macadam  streets,  now  passed  away  forever.  Ex 
istence  was  decorous,  marriage  an  irrevocable  step,  wives 
were  wives,  and  the  Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible  was 
true  from  cover  to  cover.  So  Dr.  Gilman  preached,  and 
so  they  believed. 

Sunday  was  then  a  day  essentially  different  from  other 
days  —  you  could  tell  it  without  looking  at  the  calendar. 
The  sun  knew  it,  and  changed  the  quality  of  his  light : 
the  very  animals,  dogs  and  cats  and  horses,  knew  it :  and 
most  of  all  the  children  knew  it,  by  Sunday  school,  by 
Dr.  Gilman's  sermon,  by  a  dizzy  afternoon  connected  in 
some  of  their  minds  with  ceramics  and  a  lack  of  exercise, 

B  1 


2  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

by  a  cold  tea,  and  by  church  bells.  You  were  not  allowed 
to  forget  it  for  one  instant.  The  city  suddenly  became 
full  of  churches,  as  though  they  had  magically  been  let 
down  from  heaven  during  Saturday  night.  They  must 
have  been  there  on  week  days,  but  few  persons  ever 
thought  of  them. 

Among  the  many  church  bells  that  rang  on  those  bygone 
Sundays  Tvas  that  of  St.  John's,  of  which  Dr.  Gilman,  of 
beloved  mtincry,  was  rector.  Dr.  Gilman  was  a  saint, 
and  if  you  had  had  the  good  luck  to  be  baptized  or  con 
firmed  or  married  or  buried  by  him,  you  were  probably 
fortunate  in  an  earthly  as  well  as  heavenly  sense.  One 
has  to  be  careful  not  to  deal  exclusively  in  superlatives, 
and  yet  it  is  not  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  St.  John's 
was  the  most  beautiful  and  churchly  edifice  in  the  city, 
thanks  chiefly  to  several  gentlemen  of  sense,  and  one  gentle 
man,  at  least,  of  taste  —  Mr.  Horace  Bentley.  The  vicissi 
tudes  of  civil  war  interrupted  its  building  ;  but  when,  in 
1868,  it  stood  completed,  its  stone  unsoiled  as  yet  by  factory 
smoke,  its  spire  delicately  pointing  to  untainted  skies,  its 
rose  window  glowing  above  the  porch,  citizens  on  Tower 
Street  often  stopped  to  gaze  at  it  diagonally  across  the 
vacant  lot  set  in  order  bv  Mr.  Thurston  Gore,  with  the 
intent  that  the  view  might  be  unobstructed. 

Little  did  the  Goodriches  and  Gores,  the  Warings  and 
Prestons  and  Atterburys  and  other  prominent  people  fore 
see  the  havoc  that  prosperity  and  smoke  were  to  play  with 
their  residential  plans  !  One  by  one,  sooty  commerce 
drove  them  out,  westward,  conservative  though  they  were, 
from  the  paradise  they  had  created  ;  blacker  and  blacker 
grew  the  gothic  fa9ade  of  St.  John's ;  Thurston  Gore  de 
parted,  but  leased  his  corner  first  for  a  goodly  sum,  his 
ancestors  being  from  Connecticut ;  leased  also  the  vacant 
lot  he  had  beautified,  where  stores  arose  and  hid  the  spire 
from  Tower  Street.  Cable  cars  moved  serenely  up  the 
long  hill  where  a  panting  third  horse  had  been  necessary, 
cable  cars  resounded  in  Burton  Street,  between  the  new 
factory  and  the  church  where  Dr.  Gilman  still  preached 
of  peace  and  the  delights  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  And 


THE   WARING  PROBLEMS  3 

before  you  could  draw  your  breath,  the  cable  cars  had  be 
come  electric.  Gray  hairs  began  to  appear  in  the  heads  of 
the  people  Dr.  Oilman  had  married  in  the  '60's  and  their 
children  were  going  East  to  College. 

II 

In  the  first  decade  of  the  twentieth  century,  Asa  Waring 
still  clung  to  the  imposing,  early  Victorian  mansion  in 
Hamilton  Street.  It  presented  an  uncompromising  and 
rather  scornful  front  to  the  sister  mansions  with  which  it 
had  hitherto  been  on  intimate  terms,  now  fast  degenerat 
ing  into  a  shabby  gentility,  seeking  covertly  to  catch  the 
eye  of  boarders,  but  as  yet  refraining  from  open  solicitation. 
Their  lawns  were  growing  a  little  ragged,  their  stone 
steps  and  copings  revealing  cracks. 

Asa  Waring  looked  with  a  stern  distaste  upon  certain 
aspects  of  modern  life.  And  though  he  possessed  the 
means  to  follow  his  friends  and  erstwhile  neighbours  into 
the  newer  paradise  five  miles  westward,  he  had  successfully 
resisted  for  several  years  a  formidable  campaign  to  uproot 
him.  His  three  married  daughters  lived  in  that  clean  and 
verdant  district  surrounding  the  Park  (spelled  with  a 
capital),  while  Evelyn  and  Rex  spent  most  of  their  time 
in  the  West  End  or  at  the  Country  Clubs.  Even  Mrs. 
Waring,  who  resembled  a  Roman  matron,  with  her  wavy 
white  hair  parted  in  the  middle  and  her  gentle  yet  classic 
features,  sighed  secretly  at  times  at  the  unyielding  attitude 
of  her  husband,  although  admiring  him  for  it.  The  grand 
children  drew  her. 

On  the  occasion  of  Sunday  dinner,  when  they  surrounded 
her,  her  heart  was  filled  to  overflowing. 

The  autumn  sunlight,  reddened  somewhat  by  the  slight 
haze  of  smoke,  poured  in  at  the  high  windows  of  the  dining- 
room,  glinted  on  the  silver,  and  was  split  into  bewildering 
colors  by  the  prisms  of  the  chandelier.  Many  precious 
extra  leaves  were  inserted  under  the  white  cloth,  and  Mrs. 
Waring's  eyes  were  often  dimmed  with  happiness  as  she 
glanced  along  the  ranks  on  either  side  until  they  rested  on 


4  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  man  with  whom  she  had  chosen  to  pass  her 
admiration  for  him  had  gradually  grown  into  hero-worship. 
His  anger,  sometimes  roused,  had  a  terrible  moral  quality 
that  never  failed  to  thrill  her,  and  the  Loyal  Legion  button 
on  his  black  frock  coat  seemed  to  her  an  epitome  of  his 
character.  He  sat  for  the  most  part  silent,  his  remarkable, 
penetrating  eyes,  lighting  under  his  grizzled  brows,  smil 
ing  at  her,  at  the  children,  at  the  grandchildren.  And 
sometimes  he  would  go  to  the  corner  table,  where  the  four 
littlest  sat,  and  fetch  one  back  to  perch  on  his  knee  and 
pull  at  his  white,  military  mustache. 

It  was  the  children's  day.  Uproar  greeted  the  huge 
white  cylinder  of  ice-cream  borne  by  Katie,  the  senior  of 
the  elderly  maids  ;  uproar  greeted  the  cake  ;  and  finally 
there  was  a  rush  for  the  chocolates,  little  tablets  wrapped 
in  tinfoil  and  tied  with  red  and  blue  ribbon.  After  that, 
the  pandemonium  left  the  dining-room,  to  spread  itself 
over  the  spacious  house  from  the  basement  to  the  great 
playroom  in  the  attic,  where  the  dolls  and  blocks  and  hobby 
horses  of  the  parental  generation  stoically  awaited  the  new. 

Sometimes  a  visitor  was  admitted  to  this  sacramental 
feast,  the  dearest  old  gentleman  in  the  world,  with  a  great, 
high-bridged  nose,  a  slight  stoop,  a  kindling  look,  and  snow- 
white  hair,  though  the  top  of  his  head  was  bald.  He  sat 
on  Mrs.  Waring's  right,  and  was  treated  with  the  greatest 
deference  by  the  elders,  and  with  none  at  all  by  the  chil 
dren,  who  besieged  him.  The  bigger  ones  knew  that  he 
had  had  what  is  called  a  history ;  that  he  had  been  rich 
once,  with  a  great  mansion  of  his  own,  but  now  he  lived 
on  Dalton  Street,  almost  in  the  slums,  and  worked  among 
the  poor.  His  name  was  Mr.  Bentley. 

He  was  not  there  on  the  particular  Sunday  when  this 
story  opens,  otherwise  the  conversation  about  to  be  recorded 
would  not  have  taken  place.  For  St.  John's  Church  was 
not  often  mentioned  in  Mr.  Bentley's  presence. 

"  Well,  grandmother,"  said  Phil  Goodrich,  who  was  the 
favourite  son-in-law,  "  how  was  the  new  rector  to-day  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hodder  is  a  remarkable  young  man,  Phil,"  Mrs. 
Waring  declared,  "  and  delivered  such  a  good  sermon.  I 


THE  WARING   PROBLEMS  5 

couldn't  help  wishing  that  you  and  Rex  and  Evelyn  and 
George  had  been  in  church." 

"  Phil  couldn't  go,"  explained  the  unmarried  and  sun 
burned  Evelyn,  "he  had  a  match  on  of  eighteen  holes 
with  me." 

Mrs.  Waring  sighed. 

"I^can't  think  what's  got  into  the  younger  people  these 
days  that  they  seem  so  indifferent  to  religion.  Your 
father's  a  vestryman,  Phil,  and  I  believe  it  has  always  been 
his  hope  that  you  would  succeed  him.  I'm  afraid  Rex 
won't  succeed  his  father,"  she  added,  with  a  touch  of  regret 
and  a  glance  of  pride  at  her  husband.  "  You  never  go  to 
church,  Rex.  Phil  does." 

"  I  got  enough  church  at  boarding-school  to  last  me  a 
lifetime,  mother,"  her  son  replied.  He  was  slightly  older 
than  Evelyn,  and  just  out  of  college.  "  Besides,  any 
heathen  can  get  on  the  vestry  —  it's  a  financial  board,  and 
they're  due  to  put  Phil  on  some  day.  They're  always 
putting  him  on  boards." 

His  mother  looked  a  little  distressed." 

"Rex,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  talk  that  way  about  the 
Church " 

"I'm  sorry,  mother,"  he  said,  with  quick  penitence. 
"  Mr.  Langmaid's  a  vestryman,  you  know,  and  they've  only 
got  him  there  because  he's  the  best  corporation  lawyer  in 
the  city.  He  isn't  exactly  what  you'd  call  orthodox.  He 
never  goes." 

"We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Langmaid  for  Mr.  Hodder." 
This  was  one  of  Mr.  Waring's  rare  remarks. 

Eleanor  Goodrich  caught  her  husband's  eye,  and  smiled. 

"J  wonder  why  it  is,"  she  said,  "that  we  are  so  luke 
warm  about  church  in  these  days?  I  don't  mean  you, 
Lucy,  or  Laureston,"  she  added  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Grey. 
"You're  both  exemplary."  Lucy  bowed  ironically.  "But 
most  people  of  our  ages  with  whom  we  associate.  Martha 
Preston,  for  instance.  We  were  all  brought  up  like  the 
children  of  Jonathan  Edwards.  Do  you  remember  that 
awful  round-and-round  feeling  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
Sally,  and  only  the  wabbly  Noah's  Ark  elephant  to  play 


6  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

with,  right  in  this  house  ?  instead  of  that !  "  There  was  a 
bump  in  the  hall  without,  and  shrieks  of  laughter.  "  I'll 
never  forget  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  me  — :  when  I  was 
reading  Darwin — that  if  the  ark  were  as  large  as  Barnum's 
Circus  and  the  Natural  History  Museum  put  together,  it 
couldn't  have  held  a  thousandth  of  the  species  on  earth. 
It  was  a  blow." 

"  I  don't  know  what  we're  coming  to,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Waring  gently. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  be  flippant,  mother,"  said  Eleanor, 
penitently,  "  but  I  do  believe  the  Christian  religion  has  got 
to  be  presented  in  a  different  way,  and  ,a  more  vital,  way, 
touappeal  to  a  new  generation.  I  am  merely  looking  facts 
in  the  face." 

"  What  is  the  Christian  religion  ?  "  asked  Sally's  hus 
band,  George  Bridges,  who  held  a  chair  of  history  in  the 
local  flourishing  university.  "  I've  been  trying  to  find  out 
all  my  life." 

"  You  couldn't  be  expected  to  know,  George,"  said  his 
wife.  "  You  were  brought  up  an  Unitarian,  and  went  to 
Harvard." 

"  Never  mind,  professor,"  said  Phil  Goodrich,  in  a  quiz 
zical,  affectionate  tone.  "  Take  the  floor  and  tell  us  what 
it  isn't." 

George  Bridges  smiled.  He  was  a  striking  contrast  in 
type  to  his  square-cut  and  vigorous  brother-in-law ;  very 
thin,  with  slightly  protruding  eyes  the  color  of  the  faded 
blue  glaze  of  ancient  pottery,  and  yet  humorous. 

"  I've  had  my  chance,  at  any  rate.  Sally  made  me  go 
last  Sunday  and  hear  Mr.  Hodder." 

"I  can't  see  why  you  didn't  like  him,  George,"  Lucy 
cried.  "  I  think  he's  splendid." 

"Oh,  I  like  him,"  said  Mr.  Bridges. 

"  That's  just  it !  "  exclaimed  Eleanor.  "  I  like  him.  I 
think  he's  sincere.  And  that  first  Sunday  he  came,  when 
I  saw  him  get  up  in  the  pulpit  and  wave  that  long  arm  of 
his,  all  I  could  think  of  was  a  modern  Savonarola.  He 
looks  one.  And  then,  when  he  began  to  preach,  it 
was  maddening.  I  felt  all  the  time  that  he  could  say  some- 


THE   WARING   PROBLEMS  7 

thing  helpful,  if  he  only  would.  But  he  didn't.  It  was 
all  about  the  sufficiency  of  grace,  —  whatever  that  may  be. 
He  didn't  explain  it.  He  didn't  give  me  one  notion  as  to 
how  to  cope  a  little  better  with  the  frightful  complexities 
of  the  modern  lives  we  live,  or  how  to  stop  quarrelling 
with  Phil  when  he  stays  at  the  office  and  is  late  for  dinner." 

"  Eleanor,  I  think  you're  unjust  to  him,"  said  Lucy,  amid 
the  laughter  of  the  men  of  the  family.  "  Most  people  in 
St.  John's  think  he  is  a  remarkable  preacher." 

"  So  were  many  of  the  Greek  sophists,"  George  Bridges 
observed. 

"  Now  if  it  were  only  dear  old  Doctor  Gilman,"  Eleanor 
continued,  "  I  could  sink  back  into  a  comfortable  indiffer 
ence.  But  every  Sunday  this  new  man  stirs  me  up,  not 
by  what  he  says,  but  by  what  he  is.  I  hoped  we'd  get 
a  rector  with  modern  ideas,  who  would  be  able  to  tell  me 
what  to  teach  my  children.  Little  Phil  and  Harriet  come 
back  from  Sunday  school  with  all  sorts  of  questions,  and  I 
feel  like  a  hypocrite.  At  any  rate,  if  Mr.  Hodder  hasn't 
done  anything  else,  he's  made  me  want  to  know." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  man  of  modern  ideas,  Eleanor?  " 
inquired  Mr.  Bridges,  with  evident  relish. 

Eleanor  put  down  her  coffee  cup,  looked  at  him  help 
lessly,  and  smiled. 

u  Somebody  who  will  present  Christianity  to  me  in  such 
a  manner  that  it  will  appeal  to  my  reason,  and  enable  me 
to  assimilate  it  into  my  life." 

"  Good  for  you,  Nell,"  said  her  husband,  approvingly. 
44  Come  now,  professor,  you  sit  up  in  the  University  Club 
all  Sunday  morning  and  discuss  recondite  philosophy  with 
other  learned  agnostics,  tell  us  what  is  the  matter  with 
Mr.  Hodder's  theology.  That  is,  if  it  will  not  shock 
grandmother  too  much." 

"  I'm  afraid  I've  got  used  to  being  shocked,  Phil,"  said 
Mrs.  Waring,  with  her  quiet  smile. 

"  It's  unfair,"  Mr.  Bridges  protested,  "  to  ask  a  preju 
diced  pagan  like  me  to  pronounce  judgment  on  an  honest 
parson  who  is  labouring  according  to  his  lights." 

"  Go  on,  George.     You  shan't  get  out  of  it  that  way." 


8  THE  INSIDE  OF  THE  CUP 

"  Well,"  said  George,  "  the  trouble  is,  from  the  theologi 
cal  point  of  view,  that  your  parson  is  preaching  what 
Auguste  Sabatier  would  call  a  diminished  and  mitigated 
orthodoxy." 

"  Great  heavens!  "  cried  Phil.     "  What's  that  ?  " 

"  It's  neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring," 
the  professor  declared.  "  If  Mr.  Hodder  were  cornered 
he  couldn't  maintain  that  he,  as  a  priest,  has  full  power 
to  forgive  sins,  and  yet  he  won't  assert  that  he  hasn't. 
The  mediaeval  conception  of  the  Church,  before  Luther's 
day,  was  consistent,  at  any  rate,  if  you  once  grant  the 
premises  on  which  it  was  based." 

"  What  premises  ?  " 

"  That  the  Almighty  had  given  it  a  charter,  like  an  in 
surance  company,  of  a  monopoly  of  salvation  on  this  por 
tion  of  the  Universe,  and  agreed  to  keep  his  hands  off. 
Under  this  conception,  the  sale  of  indulgences,  masses  for 
the  soul,  and  temporal  power  are  perfectly  logical  —  in 
evitable.  Kings  and  princes  derive  their  governments 
from  the  Church.  But  if  we  once  begin  to  doubt  the 
validity  of  this  charter,  as  the  Reformers  did,  the  whole 
system  flies  to  pieces,  like  sticking  a  pin  into  a  soap  bubble. 

"  That  is  the  reason  why  —  to  change  the  figure  —  the 
so-called  Protestant  world  has  been  gradually  sliding 
down  hill  ever  since  the  Reformation.  The  great  ma 
jority  of  men  are  not  willing  to  turn  good,  to  renounce 
the  material  and  sensual  rewards  under  their  hands  with 
out  some  definite  and  concrete  guaranty  that,  if  they  do 
so,  they  are  going  to  be  rewarded  hereafter.  They  de 
mand  some  sort  of  infallibility.  And  when  we  let  go  of 
the  infallibility  of  the  Church,  we  began  to  slide  toward 
what  looked  like  a  bottomless  pit,  and  we  clutched  at  the 
infallibility  of  the  Bible.  And  now  that  has  begun  to 
roll. 

"  What  I  mean  by  a  mitigated  orthodoxy  is  this  :  I  am 
far  from  accusing  Mr.  Hodder  of  insincerity,  but  he 
preaches  as  if  every  word  of  the  Bible  were  literally  true, 
and  had  been  dictated  by  God  to  the  men  who  held  the 
pen ;  as  if  he,  as  a  priest,  held  some  supernatural  power 


THE   WAKING   PKOBLEMS  9 

that  could  definitely  be  traced,  through  what  is  known  as 
the  Apostolic  Succession,  back  to  Peter." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  George,"  asked  Mrs.  Waring, 
with  a  note  of  pain  in  her  voice,  "that  the  Apostolic 
Succession  cannot  be  historically  proved ?" 

"  My  dear  mother,"  said  George,  "  I  hope  you  will  hold 
me  innocent  of  beginning  this  discussion.  As  a  harmless 
professor  of  history  in  our  renowned  University  (of  which 
we  think  so  much  that  we  do  not  send  our  sons  to  it)  I 
have  been  compelled  by  the  children  whom  you  have 
brought  up  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  theology  of  your 
rector." 

"  They  will  leave  us  nothing  !  "  she  sighed. 

"  Nothing,  perhaps,  that  was  invented  by  man  to  appeal 
to  man's  superstition  and  weakness.  Of  the  remainder — 
who  can  say  ?  " 

"  What,"  asked  Mrs.  Waring,  "  do  they  say  about  the 
Apostolic  Succession  ?  " 

"Mother  is  as  bad  as  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Eleanor. 
"  Isn't  she,  grandfather  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  a  house  to  rent,"  said  Mr.  Bridges,  when  the 
laughter  had  subsided,  "  I  shouldn't  advertise  five  bath 
rooms  when  there  were  only  two,  or  electricity  when  there 
was  only  gas.  I  should  be  afraid  my  tenants  might  find 
it  out,  and  lose  a  certain  amount  of  confidence  in  me. 
But  the  orthodox  churches  are  running  just  such  a  risk 
to-day,  and  if  any  person  who  contemplates  entering  these 
churches  doesn't  examine  the  premises  first,  he  refrains  at 
his  own  cost. 

"  The  situation  in  the  early  Christian  Church  is  now  a 
matter  of  history,  and  he  who  runs  may  read.  The  first 
churches,  like  those  of  Corinth  and  Ephesus  and  Rome, 
were  democracies  :  no  such  thing  as  a  priestly  line  to  carry 
on  a  hierarchy,  an  ecclesiastical  dynasty,  was  dreamed  of. 
It  may  be  gathered  from  the  gospels  that  such  an  idea  was 
so  far  from  the  mind  of  Christ  that  his  mission  was  to  set 
at  naught  just  such  another  hierarchy,  which  then  existed 
in  Israel.  The  Apostles  were  no  more  bishops  than  was 
John  the  Baptist,  but  preachers  who  travelled  from  place 


10  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

to  place,  like  Paul.  The  congregations,  at  Rome  and 
elsewhere,  elected  their  own  presbyteri,  episcopal  or  over 
seers.  It  is,  to  say  the  least,  doubtful,  and  it  certainly 
cannot  be  proved  historically,  that  Peter  ever  was  in 
Rome." 

"  The  professor  ought  to  have  a  pulpit  of  his  own,"  said 
Phil. 

There  was  a  silence.  And  then  Evelyn,  who  had  been 
eating  quantities  of  hothouse  grapes,  spoke  up. 

"  So  far  as  I  can  see,  the  dilemma  in  which  our  genera 
tion  finds  itself  is  this,  —  we  want  to  know  what  there  is 
in  Christianity  that  we  can  lay  hold  of.  We  should  like 
to  believe,  but,  as  George  says,  all  our  education  contra 
dicts  the  doctrines  that  are  most  insisted  upon.  We  don't 
know  where  to  turn.  We  have  the  choice  of  going  to 
people  like  George,  who  know  a  great  deal  and  don't  be 
lieve  anything,  or  to  clergymen  like  Mr.  Hodder,  who 
demand  that  we  shall  violate  the  reason  in  us  which  has 
been  so  carefully  trained." 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  think  you've  put  it  rather  well, 
Evelyn,"  said  Eleanor,  admiringly. 

"  In  spite  of  personalities,"  added  Mr.  Bridges. 

"I  don't  see  the  use  of  fussing  about  it,"  proclaimed 
Laureston  Grey,  who  was  the  richest  and  sprucest  of  the 
three  sons-in-law.  "  Why  can't  we  let  well  enough  alone  ?  " 

"Because  it  isn't  well  enough,"  Evelyn  replied.  "I 
want  the  real  thing  or  nothing.  I  go  to  church  once  a 
month,  to  please  mother.  It  doesn't  do  me  any  good. 
And  I  don't  see  what  good  it  does  you  and  Lucy  to  go 
every  Sunday.  You  never  think  of  it  when  you're  out  at 
dinners  and  dances  during  the  week.  And  besides,"  she 
added,  with  the  arrogance  of  modern  youth,  "  you  and  Lucy 
are  both  intellectually  lazy." 

"I  like  that  from  you,  Evelyn,"  her  sister  flared  up. 
"  You  never  read  anything  except  the  sporting  columns 
and  the  annual  rules  of  tennis  and  golf  and  polo." 

"  Must  everything  be  reduced  to  terms  ? "  Mrs.  War 
ing  gently  lamented.  "  Why  can't  we,  as  Laury  suggests, 
just  continue  to  trust  ?  " 


THE   WAKING  PROBLEMS  11 

"They  are  the  more  fortunate,  perhaps,  who  can, 
mother,"  George  Bridges  answered,  with  more  of  feeling 
in  his  voice  than  he  was  wont  to  show.  "  Unhappily, 
truth  does  not  come  that  way.  If  Roger  Bacon  and 
Galileo  and  Newton  and  Darwin  and  Harvey  and  the  others 
had  4  just  trusted,'  the  world's  knowledge  would  still  re 
main  as  stationary  as  it  was  during  the  thousand-odd 
years  the  hierarchy  of  the  Church  was  supreme,  when 
theology  was  history,  philosophy,  and  science  rolled  into 
one.  If  God  had  not  meant  man  to  know  something  of 
his  origin  differing  from  the  account  in  Genesis,  he  would 
not  have  given  us  Darwin  and  his  successors.  Practically 
every  great  discovery  since  the  Revival  we  owe  to  men 
who,  by  their  very  desire  for  truth,  were  forced  into  op 
position  to  the  tremendous  power  of  the  Church,  which 
always  insisted  that  people  should  4  just  trust,'  and  take 
the  mixture  of  cosmogony  and  Greek  philosophy,  tradi 
tion  and  fable,  paganism,  Judaic  sacerdotalism,  and  tem 
poral  power  wrongly  called  spiritual  dealt  out  by  this  same 
Church  as  the  last  word  on  science,  philosophy,  history, 
metaphysics,  and  government." 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Eleanor.     "  You  make  me  dizzy." 

"  Nearly  all  the  pioneers  to  whom  we  owe  our  age  of 
comparative  enlightenment  were  heretics,"  George  per 
sisted.  "  And  if  they  could  have  been  headed  off,  or 
burned,  most  of  us  would  still  be  living  in  mud  caves  at 
the  foot  of  the  cliff  on  which  stood  the  nobleman's  castle; 
and  kings  would  still  be  kings  by  divine  decree,  scientists 
—  if  there  were  any  —  workers  in  the  black  art,  and  every 
phenomenon  we  failed  to  understand,  a  miracle." 

"I  choose  the  United  States  of  America,"  ejaculated 
Evelyn. 

"I  gather,  George,"  said  Phil  Goodrich,  "that  you 
don't  believe  in  miracles." 

"Miracles  are  becoming  suspiciously  fewer  and  fewer. 
Once,  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  was  enough  to  throw  men  on 
their  knees  because  they  thought  it  supernatural.  If  they 
were  logical  they'd  kneel  to-day  because  it  has  been  found 
natural.  Only  the  inexplicable  phenomena  are  miracles ; 


12  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  after  a  while — if  the  theologians  will  only  permit  us 
to  finish  the  job  —  there  won't  be  any  inexplicable  phe 
nomena.  Mystery,  as  I  believe  William  James  puts  it, 
may  be  called  the  more-to-be-known." 

"In  taking  that  attitude,  George,  aren't  you  limiting 
the  power  of  God?"  said  Mrs.  Waring. 

"  How  does  it  limit  the  power  of  God,  mother,"  her  son- 
in-law  asked,  "  to  discover  that  he  chooses  to  work  by 
laws  ?  The  most  suicidal  tendency  in  religious  bodies  to 
day  is  their  mediaeval  insistence  on  what  they  are  pleased 
to  call  the  supernatural.  Which  is  the  more  marvellous  — 
that  God  can  stop  the  earth  and  make  the  sun  appear  to 
stand  still,  or  that  he  can  construct  a  universe  of  untold 
millions  of  suns  with  planets  and  satellites,  each  moving 
in  its  orbit,  according  to  law ;  a  universe  wherein 
every  atom  is  true  to  a  sovereign  conception  ?  And  yet 
this  marvel  of  marvels  —  that  makes  God  in  the  twentieth 
century  infinitely  greater  than  in  the  sixteenth  —  would 
never  have  been  discovered  if  the  champions  of  theology 
had  had  their  way." 

Mrs.  Waring  smiled  a  little. 

"  You  are  too  strong  for  me,  George,"  she  said,  "  but 
you  mustn't  expect  an  old  woman  to  change." 

"Mother,  dear,"  cried  Eleanor,  rising  and  laying  her 
hand  on  Mrs.  Waring's  cheek,  "  we  don't  want  you  to 
change.  It's  ourselves  we  wish  to  change,  we  wish  for  a 
religious  faith  like  yours,  only  the  same  teaching  which 
gave  it  to  you  is  powerless  for  us.  That's  our  trouble. 
We  have  only  to  look  at  you,"  she  added,  a  little  wist 
fully,  uto  be  sure  there  is  something  —  something  vital 
in  Christianity,  if  we  could  only  get  at  it,  something  that 
does  not  depend  upon  what  we  have  been  led  to  believe 
is  indispensable.  George,  and  men  like  him,  can  only 
show  the  weakness  in  the  old  supports.  I  don't  mean 
that  they  aren't  doing  the  world  a  service  in  revealing 
errors,  but  they  cannot  reconstruct." 

"  That  is  the  clergyman's  business,"  declared  Mr. 
Bridges.  "But  he  must  first  acknowledge  that  the  old 
supports  are  worthless," 


THE   WAKING  PROBLEMS  13 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  I  like  your  rector,  in  spite  of  his 
anthropomorphism  —  perhaps,  as  George  would  say,  be 
cause  of  it.  There  is  something  manly  about  him  that 
appeals  to  me." 

"  There,"  cried  Eleanor,  triumphantly,  "  I've  always  said 
Mr.  Hodder  had  a  spiritual  personality.  You  feel  —  you 
feel  there  is  truth  shut  up  inside  of  him  which  he  cannot 
communicate.  I'll  tell  you  who  impresses  me  in  that  way 
more  strongly  than  any  one  else  —  Mr.  Bentley.  And  he 
doesn't  come  to  church  any  more." 

"  Mr.  Bentley,"  said  her  mother,  "  is  a  saint.  Your 
father  tried  to  get  him  to  dinner  to-day,  but  he  had 
promised  those  working  girls  of  his,  who  live  on  the 
upper  floors  of  his  house,  to  dine  with  them.  One  of 
them  told  me  so.  Of  course  he  will  never  speak  of  his 
kindnesses." 

"  Mr.  Bentley  doesn't  bother  his  head  about  theology," 
said  Sally.  "  He  just  lives." 

"There's  Eldon  Parr,"  suggested  George  Bridges, 
mentioning  the  name  of  the  city's  famous  financier ;  "  I'm 
told  he  relieved  Mr.  Bentley  of  his  property  some  twenty- 
five  years  ago.  If  Mr.  Hodder  should  begin  to  preach 
the  modern  heresy  which  you  desire,  Mr.  Parr  might 
object.  He's  very  orthodox,  I'm  told." 

"And  Mr.  Parr,"  remarked  the  modern  Evelyn,  sen- 
tentiously,  "pays  the  bills  at  St.  John's.  Doesn't  he, 
father  ?  " 

"I  fear  he  pays  a  large  proportion  of  them,"  Mr.  War 
ing  admitted,  in  a  serious  tone. 

"  In  these  days,"  said  Evelyn,  "  the  man  who  pays  the 
bills  is  entitled  to  have  his  religion  as  he  likes  it." 

"  No  matter  how  he  got  the  money  to  pay  them," 
added  Phil. 

"  That  suggests  another  little  hitch  in  the  modern  church 
which  will  have  to  be  straightened  out,"  said  George 
Bridges. 

" '  Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees,  hypocrites  I 
For  ye  make  clean  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  of  the  plat 
ter,  but  within  they  are  full  of  extortion  and  excess.' " 


14  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  Why,  George,  you  of  all  people  quoting  the  Bible  I  r 
Eleanor  exclaimed. 

"  And  quoting  it  aptly,  too,"  said  Phil  Goodrich. 

"  I'm  afraid  if  we  began  on  the  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
we  shouldn't  stop  with  Mr.  Parr,"  Asa  Waring  observed, 
with  a  touch  of  sadness. 

"  In  spite  of  all  they  say  he  has  done,  I  can't  help  feeling 
sorry  for  him,"  said  Mrs.  Waring.  "  He  must  be  so  lonely 
in  that  huge  palace  of  his  beside  the  Park,  his  wife  dead,  and 
Preston  running  wild  around  the  world,  and  Alison  no 
comfort.  The  idea  of  a  girl  leaving  her  father  as  she  did 
and  going  off  to  New  York  to  become  a  landscape  archi 
tect  !  " 

"  But,  mother,"  Evelyn  pleaded,  "  I  can't  see  why  a 
woman  shouldn't  lead  her  own  life.  She  only  has  one, 
like  a  man.  And  generally  she  doesn't  get  that." 

Mrs.  Waring  rose. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we're  coming  to.  I  was  taught  that 
a  woman's  place  was  with  her  husband  and  children  ;  or, 
if  she  had  none,  with  her  family.  I  tried  to  teach  you  so, 
my  dear." 

"  Well,"  said  Evelyn,  "  I'm  here  yet.  I  haven't  Alison's 
excuse.  Cheer  up,  mother,  the  world's  no  worse  than  it 
was." 

" 1  don't  know  about  that,"  answered  Mrs.  Waring. 

"  Listen  !  "  ejaculated  Eleanor. 

Mrs.  Waring's  face  brightened.  Sounds  of  mad  revelry 
came  down  from  the  floor  above. 


CHAPTER  II 

MB.  LANGMAID'S  MISSION 


LOOKING  back  over  an  extraordinary  career,  it  is  inter 
esting  to  attempt  to  fix  the  time  when  a  name  becomes  a 
talisman,  and  passes  current  for  power.  This  is  peculiarly 
difficult  in  the  case  of  Eldon  Parr.  Like  many  notable 
men  before  him,  nobody  but  Mr.  Parr  himself  suspected 
his  future  greatness,  and  he  kept  the  secret.  But  if  we 
are  to  search  what  is  now  ancient  history  for  a  turning- 
point,  perhaps  we  should  find  it  in  the  sudden  acquisition 
by  him  of  the  property  of  Mr.  Bentley. 

The  transaction  was  a  simple  one.  Those  were  the  days 
when  gentlemen,  as  matters  of  courtesy,  put  their  names 
on  other  gentlemen's  notes  ;  and  modern  financiers,  while 
they  might  be  sorry  for  Mr.  Bentley,  would  probably  be 
unanimous  in  the  opinion  that  he  was  foolish  to  write  on 
the  back  of  Thomas  Garrett's.  Mr.  Parr  was  then,  as 
now,  a  business  man,  and  could  scarcely  be  expected  to 
introduce  philanthropy  into  finance.  Such  had  been  Mr. 
Bentley's  unfortunate  practice.  And  it  had  so  happened, 
a  few  years  before,  for  the  accommodation  of  some  young 
men  of  his  acquaintance  that  he  had  invested  rather  gen 
erously  in  Grantham  mining  stock  at  twenty-five  cents  a 
share,  and  had  promptly  forgotten  the  transaction.  To 
cut  a  long  story  short,  in  addition  to  Mr.  Bentley's  house 
and  other  effects,  Mr.  Parr  became  the  owner  of  the 
Grantham  stock,  which  not  long  after  went  to  one  hun 
dred  dollars.  The  reader  may  do  the  figuring. 

There  was  some  talk  at  this  time,  but  many  things  had 
happened  since.  For  example,  Mr.  Parr  had  given  away 

15 


16  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

great  sums  in  charity.  And  it  may  likewise  be  added  in 
his  favour  that  Mr.  Bentley  was  glad  to  be  rid  of  his 
fortune.  He  had  said  so.  He  deeded  his  pew  back  to 
St.  John's,  and  protesting  to  his  friends  that  he  was  not 
unhappy,  he  disappeared  from  the  sight  of  all  save  a  few. 
The  rising  waters  of  Prosperity  closed  over  him.  But 
Eliza  Preston,  now  Mrs.  Parr,  was  one  of  those  who  were 
never  to  behold  him  again,  —  in  this  world,  at  least. 

She  was  another  conspicuous  triumph  in  that  career  we 
are  depicting.  Gradual  indeed  had  been  the  ascent  from 
the  sweeping  out  of  a  store  to  the  marrying  of  a  Preston, 
but  none  the  less  sure  —  inevitable.  For  many  years  after 
this  event,  Eldon  Parr  lived  modestly  in  what  was  known 
as  a  "stone-front"  house  in  Ransome  Street,  set  well  above 
the  sidewalk,  with  a  long  flight  of  yellow  stone  steps  lead 
ing  to  it ;  steps  scrubbed  with  Sapolio  twice  a  week  by  a 
negro  in  rubber  boots.  There  was  a  stable  with  a  tarred 
roof  in  the  rear,  to  be  discerned  beyond  the  conventional 
side  lawn  that  was  broken  into  by  the  bay  window  of  the 
dining-room.  There,  in  that  house,  his  two  children  were 
born :  there,  within  those  inartistic  walls,  Eliza  Preston 
lived  a  life  that  will  remain  a  closed  book  forever.  What 
she  thought,  what  she  dreamed,  if  anything,  will  never  be 
revealed.  She  did  not,  at  least,  have  neurasthenia,  and 
for  all  the  world  knew,  she  may  have  loved  her  exemplary 
and  successful  husband,  with  whom  her  life  was  as  regular 
as  the  Strasburg  clock.  She  breakfasted  at  eight  and  dined 
at  seven ;  she  heard  her  children's  lessons  and  read  them 
Bible  stories  ;  and  at  half  past  ten  every  Sunday  morning, 
rain  or  shine,  walked  with  them  and  her  husband  to  the 
cars  on  Tower  Street  to  attend  service  at  St.  John's,  for 
Mr.  Parr  had  scruples  in  those  days  about  using  the  car 
riage  on  the  Sabbath. 

She  did  not  live,  alas,  to  enjoy  for  long  the  Medicean 
magnificence  of  the  mansion  facing  the  Park,  to  be  a  com 
panion  moon  in  the  greater  orbit.  Eldon  Parr's  grief  was 
real,  and  the  beautiful  English  window  in  the  south  tran 
sept  of  the  church  bears  witness  to  it.  And  yet  it  cannot 
be  said  that  he  sought  solace  in  religion,  so  apparently 


ME.   LANGMAID'S   MISSION  17 

steeped  in  it  had  he  always  been.  It  was  destiny  that  he 
should  take  his  place  on  the  vestry  ;  destiny,  indeed,  that 
he  should  ultimately  become  the  vestry  as  well  as  the  first 
layman  of  the  diocese ;  unobtrusively,  as  he  had  accom 
plished  everything  else  in  life,  in  spite  of  Prestons  and 
Warings,  Atterburys,  Goodriches,  and  Gores.  And  he 
was  wont  to  leave  his  weighty  business  affairs  to  shift  for 
themselves  while  he  attended  the  diocesan  and  general 
conventions  of  his  Church. 

He  gave  judiciously,  as  becomes  one  who  holds  a  for 
tune  in  trust,  yet  generously,  always  permitting  others  to 
help,  until  St.  John's  was  a  very  gem  of  finished  beauty. 
And,  as  the  Rothschilds  and  the  Fuggers  made  money  for 
grateful  kings  and  popes,  so  in  a  democratic  age,  Eldon 
Parr  became  the  benefactor  of  an  adulatory  public.  The 
university,  the  library,  the  hospitals,  and  the  parks  of  his 
chosen  city  bear  witness. 

II 

For  forty  years,  Dr.  Gilman  had  been  the  rector  of  St. 
John's.  One  Sunday  morning,  he  preached  his  not  un 
familiar  sermon  on  the  text,  "For  now  we  see  through  a 
glass,  darkly ;  but  then  face  to  face,"  and  when  the  next 
Sunday  dawned  he  was  in  his  grave  in  Winterbourne 
Cemetery,  sincerely  mourned  within  the  parish  and  with 
out.  In  the  nature  of  mortal  things,  his  death  was  to  be 
expected  :  no  less  real  was  the  crisis  to  be  faced.  At  the 
vestry  meeting  that  followed,  the  problem  was  tersely  set 
forth  by  Eldon  Parr,  his  frock  coat  tightly  buttoned  about 
his  chest,  his  glasses  in  his  hand. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  we  have  to  fulfil  a  grave  re 
sponsibility  to  the  parish,  to  the  city,  and  to  God.  The 
matter  of  choosing  a  rector  to-day,  when  clergymen  are 
meddling  with  all  sorts  of  affairs  which  do  not  concern 
them,  is  not  so  simple  as  it  was  twenty  years  ago.  We 
have,  at  St.  John's,  always  been  orthodox  and  dignified, 
and  I  take  it  to  be  the  sense  of  this  vestry  that  we  remain 
so.  I  conceive  it  our  duty  to  find  a  man  who  is  neither 
c 


18  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

too  old  nor  too  young,  who  will  preach  the  faith  as  we 
received  it,  who  is  not  sensational,  and  who  does  not  mis 
take  socialism  for  Christianity." 

By  force  of  habit,  undoubtedly,  Mr.  Parr  glanced  at 
Nelson  Langmaid  as  he  sat  down.  Innumerable  had  been 
the  meetings  of  financial  boards  at  which  Mr.  Parr  had 
glanced  at  Langmaid,  who  had  never  failed  to  respond. 
He  was  that  sine  qua  non  of  modern  affairs,  a  corporation 
lawyer,  —  although  he  resembled  a  big  and  genial  pro 
fessor  of  Scandinavian  extraction.  He  wore  round,  tor 
toise-shell  spectacles,  he  had  a  high,  dome-like  forehead, 
and  an  ample  light  brown  beard  which  he  stroked  from 
time  to  time.  It  is  probable  that  he  did  not  believe  in 
the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

His  eyes  twinkled  as  he  rose. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  be  versed  in  theology,  gentlemen, 
as  you  know,"  he  said,  and  the  entire  vestry,  even  Mr. 
Parr,  smiled.  For  vestries,  in  spite  of  black  coats  and  the 
gravity  of  demeanour  which  first  citizens  are  apt  to  pos 
sess,  are  human  after  all.  "  Mr.  Parr  has  stated,  I  believe, 
the  requirements,  and  I  agree  with  him  that  it  is  not  an 
easy  order  to  fill.  You  want  a  parson  who  will  stick  to 
his  last,  who  will  not  try  experiments,  who  is  not  too  high 
or  too  low  or  too  broad  or  too  narrow,  who  has  intellect 
without  too  much  initiative,  who  can  deliver  a  good  ser 
mon  to  those  who  can  appreciate  one,  and  yet  will  not  get 
the  church  uncomfortably  full  of  strangers  and  run  you 
out  of  your  pews.  In  short,  you  want  a  level-headed 
clergyman  about  thirty-five  years  old  who  will  mind  his 
own  business." 

The  smiles  on  the  faces  of  the  vestry  deepened.  The 
ability  to  put  a  matter  thus  humorously  was  a  part  of 
Nelson  Langmaid's  power  with  men  and  juries. 

"I  venture  to  add  another  qualification,"  he  continued, 
u  and  that  is  virility.  We  don't  want  a  bandbox  rector. 
Well,  I  happen  to  have  in  mind  a  young  man  who  errs 
somewhat  on  the  other  side,  and  who  looks  a  little  like  a 
cliff  profile  I  once  saw  on  Lake  George  of  George  Wash 
ington  or  an  Indian  chief,  who  stands  about  six  feet  two. 


ME.   LANGMAID'S   MISSION  19 

He's  a  bachelor  —  if  that's  a  drawback.  But  I  am  not  at 
all  sure  he  can  be  induced  to  leave  his  present  parish, 
where  he  has  been  for  ten  years." 

44  Jam,"  announced  Wallis  Plimpton,  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  44 provided  the  right  man  tackles  him." 

in 

Nelson  Langmaid's  most  notable  achievement,  before  ho 
accomplished  the  greater  one  of  getting  a  new  rector  for 
St.  John's,  had  been  to  construct  the  "  water-tight  box  " 
whereby  the  Consolidated  Tractions  Company  had  become  a 
law-proof  possibility.  But  his  was  an  esoteric  reputation, 

—  the  greater  fame  had  been  Eldon  Parr's.     Men's  minds 
had  been  dazzled  by  the   breadth  of   the  conception  of 
scooping  all  the  street-car  lines  of  the  city,  long  and  short, 
into  one  big  basket,  as  it  were ;  and  when  the  stock  had 
been  listed  in  New  York,  butcher  and  baker,  clerk  and 
proprietor,  widow  and  maid,  brought  out  their  hoardings ; 
the  great  project  was  discussed  in  clubs,  cafes,  and  depart 
ment  stores,  and  by  citizens  hanging  on  the  straps  of  the 
very  cars  that  were  to  be  consolidated  —  golden  word ! 
Very  little  appeared  about  Nelson  Langmaid,  who  was 
philosophically  content.     But  to  Mr.  Parr,  who  was  known 
to  dislike  publicity,  were  devoted  pages  in  the  Sunday 
newspapers,  with  photographs  of   the  imposing  front  of 
his  house  in  Park  Street,  his  altar  and  window  in  St. 
John's,  the  Parr  building,  and  even  of  his  private  car, 
Antonia. 

Later  on,  another  kind  of  publicity  had  come.  The 
wind  had  whistled  for  a  time,  but  it  turned  out  to  be  only 
a  squall.  The  Consolidated  Tractions  Company  had  made 
the  voyage  for  which  she  had  been  constructed,  and  thus 
had  fulfilled  her  usefulness ;  and  the  cleverest  of  the  rats 
who  had  mistaken  her  for  a  permanent  home  scurried 
ashore  before  she  was  broken  up. 

All  of  which  is  merely  in  the  nature  of  a  commentary 
on  Mr.  Langmaid's  genius.  His  reputation  for  judgment 

—  which  by  some  is  deemed  the  highest  of  human  quail- 


20  THE   INSIDE  OF   THE  CUP 

ties  —  was  unimpaired  ;  and  a  man  who  in  his  time  had 
selected  presidents  of  banks  and  trust  companies  could 
certainly  be  trusted  to  choose  a  parson  —  particularly  if 
the  chief  requirements  were  not  of  a  spiritual  nature.  .  .  . 
A  week  later  he  boarded  an  east-bound  limited  train, 
armed  with  plenary  powers. 

His  destination  was  the  hill  town  where  he  had  spent 
the  first  fifteen  years  of  his  life,  amid  the  most  striking 
of  New  England  landscapes,  and  the  sight  of  the  steep 
yet  delicately  pastoral  slopes  never  failed  to  thrill  him  as 
the  train  toiled  up  the  wide  valley  to  Bremerton.  The 
vision  of  these  had  remained  with  him  during  the  years 
of  his  toil  in  the  growing  Western  city,  and  embodied 
from  the  first  homesick  days  an  ideal  to  which  he  hoped 
sometime  permanently  to  return.  But  he  never  had. 
His  family  had  shown  a  perversity  of  taste  in  preferring 
the  sea,  and  he  had  perforce  been  content  with  a  visit  of 
a  month  or  so  every  other  summer,  accompanied  usually 
by  his  daughter,  Helen.  On  such  occasions,  he  stayed 
with  his  sister,  Mrs.  Whitely. 

The  Whitely  mills  were  significant  of  the  new  Bremer 
ton,  now  neither  village  nor  city,  but  partaking  of  the 
characteristics  of  both.  French  Canadian  might  be  heard 
on  the  main  square  as  well  as  Yankee;  and  that  revolu 
tionary  vehicle,  the  automobile,  had  inspired  there  a  great 
brick  edifice  with  a  banner  called  the  Bremerton  House. 
Enterprising  Italians  had  monopolized  the  corners  with 
fruit  stores,  and  plate  glass  and  asphalt  were  in  evidence. 
But  the  hills  looked  down  unchanged,  and  in  the  cool, 
maple-shaded  streets,  though  dotted  with  modern  resi 
dences,  were  the  same  demure  colonial  houses  he  had 
known  in  boyhood. 

He  was  met  at  the  station  by  his  sister,  a  large,  matronly 
woman  who  invariably  set  the  world  whizzing  backward 
for  Langmaid;  so  completely  did  she  typify  the  content 
ment,  the  point  of  view  of  an  age  gone  by.  For  life  pre 
sented  no  more  complicated  problems  to  the  middle-aged 
Mrs.  Whitely  than  it  had  to  Alice  Langmaid. 

44 1  know  what  you've  come  for,  Nelson,"  she  said  re- 


MR.   LANGMAID'S   MISSION  21 

proachfully,  when  she  greeted  him  at  the  station.  "  Dr. 
Gilman's  dead,  and  you  want  our  Mr.  Hodder.  I  feel  it 
in  my  bones.  Well,  you  can't  get  him.  He's  had  ever  so 
many  calls,  but  he  won't  leave  Bremerton." 

She  knew  perfectly  well,  however,  that  Nelson  would 
get  him,  although  her  brother  characteristically  did  not  at 
once  acknowledge  his  mission.  Alice  Whitely  had  vivid 
memories  of  a  childhood  when  he  had  never  failed  to  get 
what  he  wanted;  a  trait  of  his  of  which,  although  it  had 
before  now  caused  her  much  discomfort,  she  was  secretly 
inordinately  proud.  She  was,  therefore,  later  in  the  day 
not  greatly  surprised  to  find  herself  supplying  her  brother 
with  arguments.  Much  as  they  admired  and  loved  Mr. 
Hodder,  they  had  always  realized  that  he  could  not  remain 
buried  in  Bremerton.  His  talents  demanded  a  wider  field. 

"Talents!"  exclaimed  Langmaid,  "I  didn't  know  he 
had  any." 

"  Oh,  Nelson,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing,  when  you 
came  to  get  him  !  "  exclaimed  his  sister. 

"I  recommended  him  because  I  thought  he  had  none," 
Langmaid  declared. 

"He'll  be  a  bishop  some  day  —  every  one  says  so," 
said  Mrs.  Whitely,  indignantly. 

"  That  reassures  me,"  said  her  brother. 

"I  can't  see  why  they  sent  you  — you  hardly  ever  go  to 
church,"  she  cried.  "I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Nelson, 
that  the  confidence  men  place  in  you  is  absurd." 

"You've  said  that  before,"  he  replied.  "I  agree  with 
you.  I'm  not  going  on  my  judgment  —  but  on  yours  and 
Gerald's,  because  I  know  that  you  wouldn't  put  up  with 
anything  that  wasn't  strictly  all-wool  orthodox." 

"I  think  you're  irreverent,"  said  his  sister,  "and  it's  a 
shame  that  the  canons  permit  sucli  persons  to  sit  on  the 
vestry.  .  .  ." 

"  Gerald,"  asked  Nelson  Langmaid  of  his  brother-in-law 
that  night,  after  his  sister  and  the  girls  had  gone  to  bed, 
"are  you  sure  that  this  young  man's  orthodox  ?" 

"  He's  been  here  for  over  ten  years,  ever  since  he  left 
the  seminary,  and  he's  never  done  or  said  anything  radical 


22  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

yeV  replied  the  mill  owner  of  Bremerton.  "  If  you  don't 
want  him,  we'd  be  delighted  to  have  him  stay.  We're  not 
forcing  him  on  you,  you  know.  What  the  deuce  has  got 
into  you  ?  You've  talked  to  him  for  two  hours,  and  you've 
sat  looking  at  him  at  the  dinner  table  for  another  two. 
I  thought  you  were  a  judge  of  men." 

Nelson  Langmaid  sat  silent. 

"  I'm  only  urging  Hodder  to  go  for  his  own  good,"  Mr. 
Whitely  continued.  "  I  can  take  you  to  dozens  of  people 
to-morrow  morning  who  worship  him,  —  people  of  all 
sorts  ;  the  cashier  in  the  bank,  men  in  the  mills,  the  hotel 
clerk,  my  private  stenographer — he's  built  up  that  little 
church  from  nothing  at  all.  And  you  may  write  the 
Bishop,  if  you  wish." 

"  How  has  he  built  up  the  church  ?  "  Langmaid  de 
manded. 

"  How  ?    How  does  any  clergyman  build  up  a  church  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  Langmaid  confessed.  "It  strikes  me 
as  quite  a  tour  deforce  in  these  days.  Does  he  manage  to 
arouse  enthusiasm  for  orthodox  Christianity  ?  " 

"Well,"  said  Gerard  Whitely,  "I  think  the  service 
appeals.  We've  made  it  as  beautiful  as  possible.  And 
then  Mr.  Hodder  goes  to  see  these  people  and  sits  up  with 
them,  and  they  tell  him  their  troubles.  He's  reformed  one 
or  two  rather  bad  cases.  I  suppose  it's  the  man's  person 
ality." 

"Ah,"  Langmaid  exclaimed,  "now  you're  talking!  " 

"  I  can't  see  what  you're  driving  at,"  confessed  his 
brother-in-law.  "You're  too  deep  for  me,  Nelson." 

If  the  truth  be  told,  Langmaid  himself  did  not  quite 
see.  On  behalf  of  the  vestry,  he  offered  next  day  to  Mr. 
Hodder  the  rectorship  of  St.  John's  and  that  offer  was 
taken  under  consideration ;  but  there  was  in  the  lawyer's 
mind  no  doubt  of  the  acceptance,  which,  in  the  course  of  a 
fortnight  after  he  had  returned  to  the  West,  followed. 

By  no  means  a  negligible  element  in  Nelson  Langmaid's 
professional  success  had  been  his  possession  of  what  may 
be  called  a  sixth  sense,  and  more  than  once,  on  his  missions 
of  trust,  he  had  listened  to  its  admonitory  promptings. 


ME.   LANGMAID'S  MISSION  23 

At  times  he  thought  he  recognized  these  in  his  conversation 
with  the  Reverend  John  Hodder  at  Bremerton, —  especially 
in  that  last  interview  in  the  pleasant  little  study  of  the 
rectory  overlooking  Bremerton  Lake.  But  the  promptings 
were  faint,  and  Langmaid  out  of  his  medium.  He  was 
not  choosing  the  head  of  a  trust  company. 

He  himself  felt  the  pull  of  the  young  clergyman's  person 
ality,  and  instinctively  strove  to  resist  it  :  and  was  more 
than  ever  struck  by  Mr.  Hodder's  resemblance  to  the  cliff 
sculpture  of  which  he  had  spoken  at  the  vestry  meeting. 
He  was  rough-hewn  indeed,  with  gray-green  eyes,  and  hair 
the  color  of  golden  sand  :  it  would  not  stay  brushed.  It 
was  this  hair  that  hinted  most  strongly  of  individualism,  that 
was  by  no  means  orthodox.  Langmaid  felt  an  incongruity, 
but  he  was  fascinated  ;  and  he  had  discovered  on  the  rec 
tor's  shelves  evidences  of  the  taste  for  classical  authors 
that  he  himself  possessed.  Thus  fate  played  with  him, 
and  the  two  men  ranged  from  Euripides  to  Horace,  from 
Horace  to  Dante  and  Gibbon.  And  when  Hodder  got  up 
to  fetch  this  or  that  edition,  he  seemed  to  tower  over  the 
lawyer,  who  was  a  big  man  himself. 

Then  they  discussed  business,  Langmaid  describing  the 
parish,  the  people,  the  peculiar  situation  in  St.  John's 
caused  by  Dr.  Gilman's  death,  while  Hodder  listened. 
He  was  not  talkative  ;  he  made  no  promises  ;  his  reserve 
on  occasions  was  even  a  little  disconcerting;  and  it  appealed 
to  the  lawyer  from  Hodder  as  a  man,  but  somehow  not  as 
a  clergyman.  Nor  did  the  rector  volunteer  any  evidences 
of  the  soundness  of  his  theological  or  political  principles. 
He  gave  Langmaid  the  impression  —  though  without  ap 
parent  egotism  —  that  by  accepting  the  call  he  would  be 
conferring  a  favour  on  St.  John's  ;  and  this  was  when  he 
spoke  with  real  feeling  of  the  ties  that  bound  him  to 
Bremerton.  Langmaid  felt  a  certain  deprecation  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  not  a  communicant. 

For  the  rest,  if  Mr.  Hodder  were  disposed  to  take  him 
self  and  his  profession  seriously,  he  was  by  no  means  lack 
ing  in  an  appreciation  of  Langmaid's  humour.  .  .  . 

The  tempering  of  the  lawyer's  elation  as  he  returned 


24  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

homeward  to  report  to  Mr.  Parr  and  the  vestry  may  be 
best  expressed  by  his  own  exclamation,  which  he  made  to 
himself  : 

"I  wonder  what  that  fellow  would  do  if  he  ever  got 
started  !  "  A  parson  was,  after  all,  a  parson,  and  he  had 
done  his  best. 

IV 

A  high,  oozing  note  of  the  brakes,  and  the  heavy  train 
came  to  a  stop.  Hodder  looked  out  of  the  window  of  the 
sleeper  to  read  the  sign  Marcion  against  the  yellow  brick 
of  the  station  set  down  in  the  prairie  mud,  and  flanked  by 
a  long  row  of  dun-colored  freight  cars  backed  up  to  a  fac 
tory. 

The  factory  was  flimsy,  somewhat  resembling  a  vast 
greenhouse  with  its  multitudinous  windows,  and  bore  the 
name  of  a  firm  whose  offices  were  in  the  city  to  which  he 
was  bound. 

"  We  'most  in  now,  sah,"  the  negro  porter  volunteered. 
"  You  kin  see  the  smoke  yondah." 

Hodder's  mood  found  a  figure  in  this  portentous  sign 
whereby  the  city's  presence  was  betrayed  to  travellers  from 
afar,  —  the  huge  pall  seemed  an  emblem  of  the  weight  of 
the  city's  sorrows  ;  or  again,  a  cloud  of  her  own  making 
which  shut  her  in  from  the  sight  of  heaven.  Absorbed  in 
the  mad  contest  for  life,  for  money  and  pleasure  and  power, 
she  felt  no  need  to  lift  her  eyes  beyond  the  level  of  her 
material  endeavours. 

He,  John  Hodder,  was  to  live  under  that  cloud,  to 
labour  under  it.  The  mission  on  which  he  was  bound, 
like  the  prophets  of  old,  was  somehow  to  gain  the  ears  of 
this  self-absorbed  population,  to  strike  the  fear  of  the 
eternal  into  their  souls,  to  convince  them  that  there  was 
Something  above  and  beyond  that  smoke  which  they 
ignored  to  their  own  peril. 

Yet  the  task,  at  this  nearer  view,  took  on  proportions 
overwhelming  —  so  dense  was  that  curtain  at  which  he 
gazed.  And  to-day  the  very  skies  above  it  were  leaden, 


MR.   L AN GM AID'S   MISSION  25 

as.  though  Nature  herself  had  turned  atheist.  In  spite 
of  the  vigour  with  which  he  was  endowed,  in  spite  of 
the  belief  in  his  own  soul,  doubts  assailed  him  of  his  ability 
to  cope  with  this  problem  of  the  modern  Nineveh  —  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  was  about  to  realize  his  matured 
ambition  of  a  great  city  parish. 

Leaning  back  on  the  cushioned  seat,  as  the  train  started 
again,  he  reviewed  the  years  at  Bremerton,  his  first  and 
only  parish.  Hitherto  (to  his  surprise,  since  he  had  been 
prepared  for  trials)  he  had  found  the  religious  life  a  prim 
rose  path.  Clouds  had  indeed  rested  on  Bremerton's 
crests,  but  beneficent  clouds,  always  scattered  by  the  sun. 
And  there,  amid  the  dazzling  snows,  he  had  on  occasions 
walked  with  God. 

His  success,  modest  though  it  were,  had  been  too  simple. 
He  had  loved  the  people,  and  they  him,  and  the  pang  of 
homesickness  he  now  experienced  was  the  intensest  sorrow 
he  had  known  since  he  had  been  among  them.  Yes,  Brem 
erton  had  been  for  him  (he  realized  now  that  he  had  left 
it)  as  near  an  approach  to  Arcadia  as  this  life  permits, 
and  the  very  mountains  by  which  it  was  encircled  had 
seemed  effectively  to  shut  out  those  monster  problems 
which  had  set  the  modern  world  outside  to  seething. 
Gerald  Whitely's  thousand  operatives  had  never  struck; 
the  New  York  newspapers,  the  magazines  that  discussed 
with  vivid  animus  the  corporation-political  problems  in 
other  states,  had  found  Bremerton  interested,  but  un 
moved;  and  Mrs.  Whitely,  who  was  a  trustee  of  the 
library,  wasted  her  energy  in  deploring  the  recent  volumes 
on  economics,  sociology,  philosophy,  and  religion  that  were 
placed  on  the  shelves.  If  Bremerton  read  them  —  and  a 
portion  of  Bremerton  did  —  no  difference  was  apparent  in 
the  attendance  at  Hodder's  church.  The  Woman's  Club 
discussed  them  strenuously,  but  made  no  attempt  to  put 
their  doctrines  into  practice. 

Hodder  himself  had  but  glanced  at  a  few  of  them,  and 
to  do  him  justice  this  abstention  had  not  had  its  root  in 
cowardice.  His  life  was  full  —  his  religion  "worked." 
And  the  conditions  with  which  these  books  dealt  simply 


26  THE   INSIDE  OF  THE  CUP 

did  not  exist  for  him.  The  fact  that  there  were  other 
churches  in  the  town  less  successful  than  his  own  (one  or 
two,  indeed,  virtually  starving)  he  had  found  it  simple  to 
account  for  in  that  their  denominations  had  abandoned  the 
true  conception  of  the  Church,  and  were  logically  degener 
ating  into  atrophy.  What  better  proof  of  the  barrenness 
of  these  modern  philosophical  and  religious  books  did  he 
need  than  the  spectacle  of  other  ministers  —  who  tarried 
awhile  on  starvation  salaries  —  reading  them  and  preach 
ing  from  them  ? 

He,  John  Hodder,  had  held  fast  to  the  essential  efficacy 
of  the  word  of  God  as  propounded  in  past  ages  by  the 
Fathers.  It  is  only  fair  to  add  that  he  did  so  without 
pride  or  bigotry,  and  with  a  sense  of  thankfulness  at  the 
simplicity  of  the  solution  (ancient,  in  truth!)  which, 
apparently  by  special  grace,  had  been  vouchsafed  him. 
And  to  it  he  attributed  the  flourishing  condition  in  which 
he  had  left  the  Church  of  the  Ascension  at  Bremerton. 

"  We'll  never  get  another  rector  like  you,"  Alice 
Whitely  had  exclaimed,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  as  she  bade 
him  good-by.  And  he  had  rebuked  her.  Others  had 
spoken  in  a  similar  strain,  and  it  is  a  certain  tribute  to  his 
character  to  record  that  the  underlying  hint  had  been 
lost  on  Hodder.  His  efficacy,  he  insisted,  lay  in  the 
Word.  .  .  . 

Hodder  looked  at  his  watch,  only  to  be  reminded  poig 
nantly  of  the  chief  cause  of  his  heaviness  of  spirit,  for  it 
represented  concretely  the  affections  of  those  whom  he  had 
left  behind  ;  brought  before  him  vividly  the  purple  haze  of 
the  Bremerton  valley,  and  the  garden  party,  in  the  ample 
Whitely  grounds,  which  was  their  tribute  to  him.  And 
he  beheld,  moving  from  the  sunlight  to  shadow,  the  figure 
of  Rachel  Ogden.  She  might  have  been  with  him  now, 
speeding  by  his  side  into  the  larger  life  ! 

In  his  loneliness,  he  seemed  to  be  gazing  into  reproachful 
eyes.  Nothing  had  passed  between  them.  It  was  he 
who  had  held  back,  a  fact  that  in  the  retrospect  caused 
him  some  amazement.  For,  if  wifehood  were  to  be  re 
garded  as  a  profession,  Rachel  Ogden  had  every  qualinca- 


MR.   LANGMAID'S   MISSION  27 

tion.  And  Mrs.  Whitely's  skilful  suggestions  had  on  oc 
casions  almost  brought  him  to  believe  in  the  reality  of  the 
mirage,  —  never  quite. 

Orthodox  though  he  were,  there  had  been  times  when  his 
humour  had  borne  him  upward  toward  higher  truths,  and 
he  had  once  remarked  that  promising  to  love  forever  was 
like  promising  to  become  President  of  the  United  States. 
One  might  achieve  it,  but  it  was  independent  of  the  will. 
Hodder's  ideals  —  if  he  had  only  known  —  transcended  the 
rubric.  His  feeling  for  Rachel  Ogden  had  not  been  lacking 
in  tenderness,  and  yet  he  had  recoiled  from  marriage 
merely  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  wife,  albeit  one  with 
every  qualification.  He  shrank  instinctively  from  the 
humdrum,  and  sought  the  heights,  stormy  though  these 
might  prove.  As  yet  he  had  not  analyzed  this  craving. 

This  he  did  know  —  for  he  had  long  ago  torn  from  his 
demon  the  draperies  of  disguise  —  that  women  were  his 
great  temptation.  Ordination  had  not  destroyed  it,  and 
even  during  those  peaceful  years  at  Bremerton  he  had  been 
forced  to  maintain  a  watchful  guard.  He  had  a  power  over 
women,  and  they  over  him,  that  threatened  to  lead  him  con 
stantly  into  wayside  paths,  and  often  he  wondered  what 
those  who  listened  to  him  from  the  pulpit  would  think  if 
they  guessed  that,  at  times,  he  struggled  with  suggestion 
even  now.  Yet,  with  his  hatred  of  compromises,  he  had 
scorned  marriage. 

The  yoke  of  Augustine  !  The  caldron  of  unholy  loves ! 
Even  now,  as  he  sat  in  the  train,  his  mind  took  its  own 
flight  backward  into  that  remoter  past  that  was  still  a 
part  of  him  :  to  secret  acts  of  his  college  days  the  thought 
of  which  made  him  shudder ;  yes,  and  to  riots  and  revel 
ries.  In  youth,  his  had  been  one  of  those  boiling,  conta 
gious  spirits  that  carry  with  them,  irresistibly,  tamer  com 
panions.  He  had  been  a  leader  in  intermittent  raids  into 
forbidden  spheres;  a  leader  also  in  certain  more  decorous 
pursuits  —  if  athletics  may  be  so  accounted;  yet  he  had 
been  capable  of  long  periods  of  self-control,  for  a  cause. 
Through  it  all  a  spark  had  miraculously  been  kept 
alive.  , 


28  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Popularity  followed  him  from  the  small  New  England 
college  to  the  Harvard  Law  School.  He  had  been  soberer 
there,  marked  as  a  pleader,  and  at  last  the  day  arrived 
when  he  was  summoned  by  a  great  New  York  lawyer  to 
discuss  his  future.  Sunday  intervened.  Obeying  a  way 
ward  impulse,  he  had  gone  to  one  of  the  metropolitan 
churches  to  hear  a  preacher  renowned  for  his  influence 
over  men.  There  is,  indeed,  much  that  is  stirring  to  the 
imagination  in  the  spectacle  of  a  mass  of  human  beings 
thronging  into  a  great  church,  pouring  up  the  aisles,  crowd 
ing  the  galleries,  joining  with  full  voices  in  the  hymns. 
What  drew  them  ?  He  himself  was  singing  words  familiar 
since  childhood,  and  suddenly  they  were  fraught  with  a 
startling  meaning  ! 

"  Fill  me,  radiancy  divine, 
Scatter  all  my  unbelief !  " 

Visions  of  the  Crusades  rose  before  him,  of  a  friar  arous 
ing  France,  of  a  Maid  of  Orleans ;  of  masses  of  soiled, 
war-worn,  sin-worn  humanity  groping  towards  the  light. 
Even  after  all  these  ages,  the  belief,  the  hope  would  not 
down. 

Outside,  a  dismal  February  rain  was  falling,  a  rain  to 
wet  the  soul.  The  reek  of  damp  clothes  pervaded  the 
gallery  where  he  sat  surrounded  by  clerks  and  shop  girls, 
and  he  pictured  to  himself  the  dreary  rooms  from  which 
they  had  emerged,  drawn  by  the  mysterious  fire  on  that 
altar.  Was  it  a  will-o'-the-wisp?  Below  him,  in  the 
pews,  were  the  rich.  Did  they,  too,  need  warmth? 

Then  came  the  sermon,  "  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my 
father." 

After  the  service,  far  into  the  afternoon,  he  had  walked 
the  wet  streets  heedless  of  his  direction,  in  an  exaltation 
that  he  had  felt  before,  but  never  with  such  intensity.  It 
seemed  as  though  he  had  always  wished  to  preach,  and 
marvelled  that  the  perception  had  not  come  to  him  sooner. 
If  the  man  to  whom  he  had  listened  could  pour  the  light 
into  the  dark  corners  of  other  men's  souls,  he,  John 


ME.   LANGMAID'S   MISSION  29 

Hodder,  felt  the  same  hot  spark  within  him,  —  despite  the 
dark  corners  of  his  own  ! 

At  dusk  he  came  to  himself,  hungry,  tired,  and  wet,  in 
what  proved  to  be  the  outskirts  of  Harlem.  He  could  see 
the  place  now  :  the  lonely,  wooden  houses,  the  ramshackle 
saloon,  the  ugly,  yellow  gleam  from  the  street  lamps  in  a 
line  along  the  glistening  pavement ;  beside  him,  a  towering 
hill  of  granite  with  a  real  estate  sign,  u  This  lot  for  sale." 
And  he  had  stood  staring  at  it,  thinking  of  the  rock  that 
would  have  to  be  cut  away  before  a  man  could  build 
there,  —  and  so  read  his  own  parable. 

How  much  rock  would  have  to  be  cut  away,  how  much 
patient  chipping  before  the  edifice  of  which  he  had  been 
dreaming  could  be  reared!  Could  he  ever  do  it?  Once 
removed,  he  would  be  building  on  rock.  But  could  he 
remove  it?  .  .  .  To  help  revive  a  faith,  a  dying  faith, 
in  a  material  age,  —  that  indeed  were  a  mission  for  any 
man !  .  .  . 

He  found  his  way  to  an  elevated  train,  and  as  it  swept 
along  stared  unseeing  at  the  people  who  pushed  and 
jostled  him.  Still  under  the  spell,  he  reached  his  room  and 
wrote  to  the  lawyer  thanking  him,  but  saying  that  he  had 
reconsidered  coming  to  New  York.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
posted  the  letter,  and  was  on  his  way  back  to  Cambridge 
that  he  fully  realized  he  had  made  the  decision  of  his  life. 

Misgivings,  many  of  them,  had  come  in  the  months  that 
followed,  misgivings  and  struggles,  mocking  queries. 
Would  it  last?  There  was  the  incredulity  and  amazement 
of  nearest  friends,  who  tried  to  dissuade  him  from  so  ex 
traordinary  a  proceeding.  Nobody,  they  said,  ever  became 
a  parson  in  these  days ;  nobody,  at  least,  with  his  ability. 
He  was  throwing  himself  away.  Ethics  had  taken  the 
place  of  religion ;  intelligent  men  didn't  go  to  church. 
And  within  him  went  on  an  endless  debate.  Public 
opinion  made  some  allowance  for  frailties  in  other  profes 
sions  ;  in  the  ministry,  none  :  he  would  be  committing 
himself  to  be  good  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  that  seemed  too 
vast  an  undertaking  for  any  human. 

The  chief  horror  that  haunted  him  was  not  failure, — 


30  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

for  oddly  enough  he  never  seriously  distrusted  his  power, -^ 
it  was  disaster.  Would  God  give  him  the  strength  to 
fight  his  demon?  If  he  were  to  gain  the  heights,  only  to 
stumble  in  the  sight  of  all  men,  to  stumble  and  fall. 

Seeming  echoes  of  the  hideous  mockery  of  it  rang  in  his 
ears :  where  is  the  God  that  this  man  proclaimed  ?  he  saw 
the  newspaper  headlines,  listened  in  imagination  to  cynical 
comments,  beheld  his  name  trailed  through  the  soiled 
places  of  the  cities,  the  shuttlecock  of  men  and  women. 
"•  To  him  that  overcometh,  to  him  will  I  give  of  the  hidden 
manna,  and  I  will  give  him  a  white  stone,  and  upon  the 
stone  a  new  name  written,  which  no  one  knoweth  but  he 
that  receiveth  it."  Might  he  ever  win  that  new  name, 
eat  of  the  hidden  manna  of  a  hidden  power,  become  the 
possessor  of  the  morning  star? 

Unless  there  be  in  the  background  a  mother,  no  portrait 
of  a  man  is  complete.  She  explains  him,  is  his  complement. 
Through  good  mothers  are  men  conceived  of  God  :  and  with 
God  they  sit,  forever  yearning,  forever  reaching  out,  help 
less  except  for  him:  with  him,  they  have  put  a  man  into  the 
world.  Thus,  into  the  Supreme  Canvas,  came  the  Virgin. 

John  Hodder's  mother  was  a  widow,  and  to  her,  in  the 
white,  gabled  house  which  had  sheltered  stern  ancestors, 
he  travelled  in  the  June  following  his  experience.  Stand 
ing  under  the  fan-light  of  the  elm-shaded  doorway,  she 
seemed  a  vision  of  the  peace  wherein  are  mingled  joy  and 
sorrow,  faith  and  tears !  A  tall,  quiet  woman,  who  had 
learned  the  lesson  of  mothers,  —  how  to  wait  and  how  to 
pray,  how  to  be  silent  with  a  clamouring  heart. 

She  had  lived  to  see  hirn  established  at  Bremerton,  to  be 
with  him  there  awhile.  .  .  . 

He  awoke  from  these  memories  to  gaze  down  through 
the  criss-cross  of  a  trestle  to  the  twisted,  turbid  waters  of 
the  river  far  below.  Beyond  was  the  city.  The  train 
skirted  for  a  while  the  hideous,  soot-stained  warehouses 
that  faced  the  water,  plunged  into  a  lane  between  hum 
ming  factories  and  clothes-draped  tenements,  and  at  last 
glided  into  semi-darkness  under  the  high,  reverberating 
roof  of  the  Union  Station. 


CHAPTER   III 

THE   PRIMROSE   PATH 


NELSON  LANGMAID'S  extraordinary  judgment  appeared 
once  more  to  be  vindicated. 

There  had  been,  indeed,  a  critical,  anxious  moment, 
emphasized  by  the  agitation  of  bright  feminine  plumes 
and  the  shifting  of  masculine  backs  into  the  corners  of 
the  pews.  None  got  so  far  as  to  define  to  themselves 
why  there  should  be  an  apparent  incompatibility  between 
ruggedness  and  orthodoxy  —  but  there  were  some  who 
hoped  and  more  who  feared.  Luther  had  been  orthodox 
once,  Savonarola  also:  in  appearance  neither  was  more 
canonical  than  the  new  rector. 

His  congregation,  for  the  most  part,  were  not  analytical. 
But  they  felt  a  certain  anomaly  in  virility  proclaiming 
tradition.  It  took  them  several  Sundays  to  get  accus 
tomed  to  it. 

To  those  who  had  been  used  for  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  century  to  seeing  old  Dr.  Oilman's  gentle  face  under 
the  familiar  and  faded  dove  of  the  sounding-board,  to  the 
deliberation  of  his  walk,  and  the  hesitation  of  his  manner, 
the  first  impression  of  the  Reverend  John  Hodder  was 
somewhat  startling.  They  felt  that  there  should  be  a 
leisurely  element  in  religion.  He  moved  across  the  chan 
cel  with  incredible  swiftness,  his  white  surplice  flowing 
like  the  draperies  of  a  moving  Victory,  wasted  no  time 
with  the  pulpit  lights,  announced  his  text  in  a  strong 
and  penetrating,  but  by  no  means  unpleasing  voice,  and 
began  to  speak  with  the  certainty  of  authority. 

Here,  in  an  age  when  a  new  rector  had  ceased  to  be  an 

31 


32  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

all-absorbing  topic  in  social  life,  was  a  new  and  somewhat 
exhilarating  experience.  And  it  may  be  privately  con 
fessed  that  there  were  some  who  sat  in  St.  John's  during 
those  first  weeks  of  his  incumbency  who  would  indig 
nantly  have  repudiated  the  accusation  that  they  were  not 
good  churchmen  and  churchwomen,  and  who  nevertheless 
had  queer  sensations  in  listening  to  ancient  doctrines  set 
forth  with  Emersonian  conviction.  Some  were  courageous 
enough  to  ask  themselves,  in  the  light  of  this  forceful 
presentation,  whether  they  really  did  believe  them  as 
firmly  as  they  supposed  they  had. 

Dear  old  Dr.  Oilman  had  been  milder  —  much  milder  as 
the  years  gained  upon  him.  And  latterly,  when  he  had 
preached,  his  voice  had  sounded  like  the  unavailing  pro 
test  of  one  left  far  behind,  who  called  out  faintly  with  un 
heeded  warnings.  They  had  loved  him  :  but  the  modern 
world  was  a  busy  world,  and  Dr.  Gilman  did  not  under 
stand  it.  This  man  was  different.  Here  was  what  the 
Church  taught,  he  said,  and  they  might  slight  it  at  their 
peril ! 

It  is  one  thing  to  believe  one's  self  orthodox,  and  quite 
another  to  have  that  orthodoxy  so  definitely  defined  as  to 
be  compelled,  whether  or  no,  to  look  it  squarely  in  the 
face  and  own  or  disown  it.  Some  indeed,  like  Gordon 
Atterbury,  stood  the  test ;  responded  to  the  clarion  call 
for  which  they  had  been  longing.  But  little  Everett  Con 
stable,  who  also  sat  on  the  vestry,  was  a  trifle  uncom 
fortable  in  being  reminded  that  absence  from  the  Com 
munion  Table  was  perilous,  although  he  would  have  been 
the  last  to  deny  the  efficacy  of  the  Sacrament. 

The  new  rector  was  plainly  not  a  man  who  might  be 
accused  of  policy  in  pandering  to  the  tastes  of  a  wealthy 
and  conservative  flock.  But  if,  in  the  series  of  sermons 
which  lasted  from  his  advent  until  well  after  Christmas,  he 
had  deliberately  consulted  their  prejudices,  he  could  not 
have  done  better.  It  is  true  that  he  went  beyond  the 
majority  of  them,  but  into  a  region  which  they  regarded 
as  preeminently  safe,  —  a  region  the  soil  of  which  was 
traditional.  To  wit :  St.  Paul  had  left  to  the  world  a 


THE   PKIMKOSE   PATH  33 

consistent  theology.  Historical  research  was  ignored 
rather  than  condemned.  And  it  might  reasonably  have 
been  gathered  from  these  discourses  that  the  main  proofs 
of  Christ's  divinity  lay  in  his  Virgin  Birth,  his  miracles, 
and  in  the  fact  that  his  body  had  risen  from  the  grave, 
had  been  seen  by  many,  and  even  touched.  Hence  un 
belief  had  no  excuse.  By  divine  commission  there  were 
bishops,  priests,  and  deacons  in  the  new  hierarchy,  and 
it  was  through  the  Apostolic  Succession  that  he,  their 
rector,  derived  his  sacerdotal  powers.  There  were,  no 
doubt,  many  obscure  passages  in  the  Scripture,  but  men's 
minds  were  finite  ;  a  catholic  acceptance  was  imperative, 
and  the  evils  of  the  present  day  —  a  sufficiently  sweeping 
statement  —  were  wholly  due  to  deplorable  lapses  from 
such  acceptance.  The  Apostolic  teaching  must  be  pre 
served,  since  it  transcended  all  modern  wanderings  after 
truth.  Hell,  though  not  definitely  defined  in  terms  of 
flames,  was  no  less  a  state  of  torture  (future,  by  impli 
cation)  of  which  fire  was  but  a  faint  symbol.  And  he 
gave  them  clearly  to  understand  that  an  unbaptized  per 
son  ran  no  inconsiderable  risk.  He  did  not  declare  un 
qualifiedly  that  the  Church  alone  had  the  power  to  save, 
but  such  was  the  inference. 

II 

It  was  entirely  fitting,  no  doubt,  when  the  felicitations 
of  certain  of  the  older  parishioners  on  his  initial  sermon 
were  over,  that  Mr.  Hodder  should  be  carried  westward 
to  lunch  with  the  first  layman  of  the  diocese.  But  Mr. 
Parr,  as  became  a  person  of  his  responsibility,  had  been 
more  moderate  in  his  comment.  For  he  had  seen,  in  his 
day,  many  men  whose  promise  had  been  unfulfilled. 
Tightly  buttoned,  silk  hatted,  upright,  he  sat  in  the 
corner  of  his  limousine,  the  tasselled  speaking-tube  in  his 
hand,  from  time  to  time  cautioning  his  chauffeur. 

"  Carefully  !  "  he  cried.  "  I've  told  you  not  to  drive  so 
fast  in  this  part  of  town.  I've  never  got  used  to  automo 
biles,"  he  remarked  to  Hodder,  "  and  I  formerly  went  to 


34  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

church  in  the  street-cars,  but  the  distances  have  grown  so 
great  —  and  I  have  occasionally  been  annoyed  in  them." 

Hodder  was  not  given  to  trite  acquiescence.  His 
homely  composure  belied  the  alertness  of  his  faculties;  he 
was  striving  to  adapt  himself  to  the  sudden  broadening 
and  quickening  of  the  stream  of  his  life,  and  he  felt  a 
certain  excitement  —  although  he  did  not  betray  it  —  in 
the  presence  of  the  financier.  Much  as  he  resented  the 
thought,  it  was  impossible  for  him  not  to  realize  that  the 
man's  pleasure  and  displeasure  were  important  ;  for,  since 
his  arrival,  he  had  had  delicate  reminders  of  this  from 
many  sources.  Recurrently,  it  had  caused  him  a  vague 
uneasiness,  hinted  at  a  problem  new  to  him.  He  was 
jealous  of  the  dignity  of  the  Church,  and  he  seemed  al 
ready  to  have  detected  in  Mr.  Parr's  manner  a  subtle  note 
of  patronage.  Nor  could  Hodder's  years  of  provincialism 
permit  him  to  forget  that  this  man  with  whom  he  was 
about  to  enter  into  personal  relations  was  a  capitalist  of 
national  importance. 

The  neighbourhood  they  traversed  was  characteristic  of 
our  rapidly  expanding  American  cities.  There  were  rows 
of  dwelling  houses,  once  ultra-respectable,  now  slatternly, 
and  lawns  gone  grey ;  some  of  these  houses  had  been  re 
modelled  into  third-rate  shops,  or  thrown  together  to  make 
manufacturing  establishments :  saloons  occupied  all  the 
favourable  corners.  Flaming  posters  on  vacant  lots  an 
nounced,  pictorially,  dubious  attractions  at  the  theatres. 
It  was  a  wonderful  Indian  summer  day,  the  sunlight  soft 
and  melting ;  and  the  smoke  which  continually  harassed 
this  district  had  lifted  a  little,  as  though  in  deference  to 
the  Sabbath. 

Hodder  read  the  sign  on  a  lamp  post,  Dalton  Street. 
The  name  clung  in  his  memory. 

"  We  thought,  some  twenty  years  ago,  of  moving  the 
church  westward,"  said  Mr.  Parr,  "  but  finally  agreed  to 
remain  where  we  were." 

The  rector  had  a  conviction  on  this  point,  and  did  not 
hesitate  to  state  it  without  waiting  to  be  enlightened  as 
to  the  banker's  views. 


THE  PKIMKOSE  PATH  35 

"  It  would  seem  to  me  a  wise  decision,"  he  said,  look 
ing  out  of  the  window,  and  wholly  absorbed  in  the  con 
templation  of  the  evidences  of  misery  and  vice,  "  with 
this  poverty  at  the  very  doors  of  the  church." 

Something  in  his  voice  impelled  Eldon  Parr  to  shoot  a 
glance  at  his  profile. 

44  Poverty  is  inevitable,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  declared.  "  The 
weak  always  sink." 

Hodder's  reply,  whatever  it  might  have  been,  was  pre 
vented  by  the  sudden  and  unceremonious  flight  of  both 
occupants  toward  the  ceiling  of  the  limousine,  caused  by 
a  deep  pit  in  the  asphalt. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Gratton  ? "  Mr.  Parr  called 
sharply  through  the  tube. 

Presently,  the  lawns  began  to  grow  brighter,  the  houses 
more  cheerful,  and  the  shops  were  left  behind.  They 
crossed  the  third  great  transverse  artery  of  the  city  (not 
so  long  ago,  Mr.  Parr  remarked,  a  quagmire,  now  lined 
by  hotels  and  stores  with  alluring  displays  in  plate  glass 
windows)  and  entered  a  wide  boulevard  that  stretched 
westward  straight  to  the  great  Park.  This  boulevard  the 
financier  recalled  as  a  country  road  of  clay.  It  was  bor 
dered  by  a  vivid  strip  of  green  ;  a  row  of  tall  and  graceful 
lamp  posts,  like  sentinels,  marked  its  course ;  while  the 
dwellings,  set  far  back  on  either  side,  were  for  the  most 
part  large  and  pretentious,  betraying  in  their  many  tenta 
tive  styles  of  architecture  the  reaching  out  of  a  commer 
cial  nation  after  beauty.  Some,  indeed,  were  simple  of 
line  and  restful  to  the  trained  eye. 

They  came  to  the  wide  entrance  of  the  Park,  so  wisely 
preserved  as  a  breathing  place  for  future  generations.  A 
slight  haze  had  gathered  over  the  rolling  forests  to  the 
westward  ;  but  this  haze  was  not  smoke.  Here,  in  this 
enchanting  region,  the  autumn  sunlight  was  undiluted 
gold,  the  lawns,  emerald,  and  the  red  gravel  around  the 
statesman's  statue  glistening.  The  automobile  quickly 
swung  into  a  street  that  skirted  the  Park,  —  if  street  it 
might  be  called,  for  it  was  more  like  a  generous  private 
driveway,  —  flanked  on  the  right  by  fences  of  ornamental 


36  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

ironwork  and  high  shrubbery  that  concealed  the  fora 
yards  of  dominating  private  residences  which  might, 
without  great  exaggeration,  have  been  called  palaces. 

"That's  Ferguson's  house,"  volunteered  Mr.  Parr,  indi 
cating  a  marble  edifice  with  countless  windows.  "  He's 
one  of  your  vestrymen,  you  know.  Ferguson's  Depart 
ment  Store."  The  banker's  eyes  twinkled  a  little  for  the 
first  time.  "  You'll  probably  find  it  convenient.  Most 
people  do.  Clever  business  man,  Ferguson." 

But  the  rector  was  finding  difficulty  in  tabulating  his 
impressions. 

They  turned  in  between  two  posts  of  a  gateway  toward 
a  huge  house  of  rough  granite.  And  Hodder  wondered 
whether,  in  the  swift'onward  roll  of  things,  the  time  would 
come  when  this,  too,  would  have  been  deemed  ephemeral. 
With  its  massive  walls  and  heavy,  red-tiled  roof  that 
sloped  steeply  to  many  points,  it  seemed  firmly  planted 
for  ages  to  come.  It  was  surrounded,  yet  not  hemmed  in, 
by  trees  of  a  considerable  age.  His  host  explained  that 
these  had  belonged  to  the  original  farm  of  which  all  this 
Park  Street  property  had  made  a  part. 

They  alighted  under  a  porte-cochere  with  a  glass  roof. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Parr,  as  the  doors  swung  open 
and  he  led  the  way  into  the  house,  "  I'm  sorry  I  can't  give 
you  a  more  cheerful  welcome,  but  my  son  and  daughter, 
for  their  own  reasons,  see  fit  to  live  elsewhere." 

Hodder's  quick  ear  detected  in  the  tone  another  cadence, 
and  he  glanced  at  Eldon  Parr  with  a  new  interest.  .  .  . 

Presently  they  stood,  face  to  face,  across  a  table  reduced 
to  its  smallest  proportions,  in  the  tempered  light  of  a  vast 
dining-room,  an  apartment  that  seemed  to  symbolize  the 
fortress-like  properties  of  wealth.  The  odd  thought 
struck  the  clergyman  that  this  man  had  made  his  own 
Tower  of  London,  had  built  with  his  own  hands  the  prison 
in  which  he  was  to  end  his  days.  The  carved  oaken 
ceiling,  lofty  though  it  was,  had  the  effect  of  pressing 
downward,  the  heavy  furniture  matched  the  heavy  walls, 
and  even  the  silent,  quick-moving  servants  had  a  watchful 
air. 


THE   PRIMROSE   PATH  37 

Mr.  Parr  bowed  his  head  while  Hodder  asked  grace. 
They  sat  down. 

The  constraint  which  had  characterized  their  conversa 
tion  continued,  yet  there  was  a  subtle  change  in  the  attitude 
of  the  clergyman.  The  financier  felt  this,  though  it  could 
not  be  said  that  Hodder  appeared  more  at  his  ease:  his 
previous  silences  had  been  by  no  means  awkward.  Eldon 
Parr  liked  self-contained  men.  But  his  perceptions  were 
as  keen  as  Nelson  Langmaid's,  and  like  Langmaid,  he  had 
gradually  become  conscious  of  a  certain  baffling  personality 
in  the  new  rector  of  St.  John's.  From  time  to  time  he 
was  aware  of  the  grey-green  eyes  curiously  fixed  on  him, 
and  at  a  loss  to  account  for  their  expression.  He  had  no 
thought  of  reading  in  it  an  element  of  pity.  Yet  pity  was 
nevertheless  in  the  rector's  heart,  and  its  advent  was 
emancipating  him  from  the  limitations  of  provincial  inex 
perience. 

Suddenly,  the  financier  launched  forth  on  a  series  of 
shrewd  and  searching  questions  about  Bremerton,  its 
church,  its  people,  its  industries,  and  social  conditions. 
All  of  which  Hodder  answered  to  his  apparent  satisfaction. 
Coffee  was  brought.  Hodder  pushed  back  his  chair, 
crossed  his  knees,  and  sat  perfectly  still  regarding  his  host, 
his  body  suggesting  a  repose  that  did  not  interfere  with 
his  perceptive  faculties. 

"  You  don't  smoke,  Mr.  Hodder  ?  " 

The  rector  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  Mr.  Parr 
selected  a  diminutive,  yellow  cigar  and  held  it  up. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  has  been  the  extent  of  my  indulgence 
for  twenty  years.  They  are  made  for  me  in  Cuba." 

Hodder  smiled  again,  but  said  nothing. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  your  former  bishop,  speaking 
of  you  in  the  highest  terms,"  he  observed. 

44  The  bishop  is  very  kind." 

Mr.  Parr  cleared  his  throat. 

"  I  am  considerably  older  than  you,"  he  went  on,  "  and 
I  have  the  future  of  St.  John's  very  much  at  heart,  Mr. 
Hodder.  I  trust  you  will  remember  this  and  make  al 
lowances  for  it  as  I  talk  to  you.  I  need  not  remind  you 


38  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

that  you  have  a  grave  responsibility  on  your  shoulders  for 
so  young  a  man,  and  that  St.  John's  is  the  oldest  parish 
in  the  diocese." 

"  I  think  I  realize  it,  Mr.  Parr,"  said  Hodder,  gravely. 
"  It  was  only  the  opportunity  of  a  larger  work  here  that 
induced  me  to  leave  Bremerton." 

"  Exactly,"  agreed  the  banker.  "  The  parish,  I  believe, 
is  in  good  running  order  —  I  do  not  think  you  will  see  the 
necessity  for  many  —  ahem  —  changes.  But  we  sadly 
needed  an  executive  head.  And,  if  I  may  say  so,  Mr. 
Hodder,  you  strike  me  as  a  man  of  that  type,  who  might 
have  made  a  success  in  a  business  career." 

The  rector  smiled  again. 

"  I  am  sure  you  could  pay  me  no  higher  compliment," 
he  answered. 

For  an  instant  Eldon  Parr,  as  he  stared  at  the  clergy 
man,  tightened  his  lips,  —  lips  that  seemed  peculiarly 
formed  for  compression.  Then  they  relaxed  into  what 
resembled  a  smile.  If  it  were  one,  the  other  re 
turned  it. 

"Seriously,"  Mr.  Parr  declared,  "it  does  me  good  in 
these  days  to  hear,  from  a  young  man,  such  sound  doctrine 
as  you  preach.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  believe  in 
making  concessions  to  agnostics  and  atheists.  You  were 
entirely  right,  in  my  opinion,  when  you  said  that  we  who 
belong  to  the  Church  —  and  of  course  you  meant  all 
orthodox  Christians  —  should  stand  by  our  faith  as  de 
livered  by  the  saints.  Of  course,"  he  added,  smiling, 
"  I  should  not  insist  upon  the  sublapsarian  view  of  elec 
tion  which  I  was  taught  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  as  a 
boy." 

Hodder  laughed,  but  did  not  interrupt. 

"  On  the  other  hand,"  Mr.  Parr  continued,  "  I  have 
little  patience  with  clergymen  who  would  make  religion 
attractive.  What  does  it  amount  to  —  luring  people  into 
the  churches  on  one  pretext  or  another,  sugar-coating  the 
pill?  Salvation  is  a  more  serious  matter.  Let  the 
churches  stick  to  their  own.  We  have  at  St.  John's  a 
God-fearing,  conservative  congregation,  which  does  not 


THE  PEIMEOSE  PATH  39 

believe  in  taking  liberties  with  sound  and  established  doc 
trine.  And  I  may  confess  to  you,  Mr.  Hodder,  that  we 
were  naturally  not  a  little  anxious  about  Dr.  Oilman's 
successor,  that  we  should  not  get,  in  spite  of  every  pre 
caution,  a  man  tinged  with  the  new  and  dangerous  ideas 
so  prevalent,  I  regret  to  say,  among  the  clergy.  I  need 
scarcely  add  that  our  anxieties  have  been  set  at  rest." 

"  That,"  said  Hodder,  "  must  be  taken  as  a  compli 
ment  to  the  dean  of  the  theological  seminary  from 
which  I  graduated." 

The  financier  stared  again.  But  he  decided  that  Mr. 
Hodder  had  not  meant  to  imply  that  he,  Mr.  Parr,  was 
attempting  to  supersede  the  dean.  The  answer  had 
been  modest. 

"I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  and  I  and  all  sensible 
men  are  happily  agreed  that  the  Church  should  remain 
where  she  is.  Let  the  people  come  to  her.  She  should 
be,  if  I  may  so  express  it,  the  sheet  anchor  of  society,  our 
bulwark  against  socialism,  in  spite  of  socialists  who  call 
themselves  ministers  of  God.  The  Church  has  lost 
ground — why?  Because  she  has  given  ground.  The 
sanctity  of  private  property  is  being  menaced,  demagogues 
are  crying  out  from  the  house-tops  and  inciting  people 
against  the  men  who  have  made  this  country  what  it  is, 
who  have  risked  their  fortunes  and  their  careers  for  the 
present  prosperity.  We  have  no  longer  any  right,  it 
seems,  to  employ  whom  we  will  in  our  factories  and  our 
railroads  ;  we  are  not  allowed  to  regulate  our  rates, 
although  the  risks  were  all  ours.  Even  the  women  are 
meddling, — they  are  not  satisfied  to  stay  in  the  homes, 
where  they  belong.  You  agree  with  me  ?  " 

"  As  to  the  women,"  said  the  rector,  "  I  have  to  acknow 
ledge  that  I  have  never  had  any  experience  with  the  mili 
tant  type  of  which  you  speak." 

"I  pray  God  you  may  never  have,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Parr,  with  more  feeling  than  he  had  yet  shown. 

"  Woman's  suffrage,  and  what  is  called  feminism  in 
general,  have  never  penetrated  to  Bremerton.  Indeed,  I 
must  confess  to  have  been  wholly  out  of  touch  with  the 


40  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

problems  to  which  you  refer,  although  of  course  I  have 
been  aware  of  their  existence." 

"  You  will  meet  them  here,"  said  the  banker,  signifi* 
cantly. 

"  Yes,"  the  rector  replied  thoughtfully,  "  I  can  see  that. 
I  know  that  the  problems  here  will  be  more  complicated, 
more  modern, — more  difficult.  And  I  thoroughly  agree 
with  you  that  their  ultimate  solution  is  dependent  on 
Christianity.  If  I  did  not  believe,  —  in  spite  of  the  evident 
fact  which  you  point  out  of  the  Church's  lost  ground,  — 
that  her  future  will  be  greater  than  her  past,  I  should  not 
be  a  clergyman." 

The  quiet  but  firm  note  of  faith  was  not  lost  on  the 
financier,  and  yet  was  not  he  quite  sure  what  was  to  be 
made  of  it  ?  He  had  a  faint  and  fleeting  sense  of  disquiet, 
which  registered  and  was  gone. 

"I  hope  so,"  he  said  vaguely,  referring  perhaps  to  the 
resuscitation  of  which  the  rector  spoke.  He  drummed 
on  the  table.  "  I'll  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  I,  too,  think 
that  the  structure  can  be  repaired.  And  I  believe  "it  is 
the  duty  of  the  men  of  influence — all  men  of  influence  — 
to  assist.  I  don't  say  that  men  of  influence  are  not  fac 
tors  in  the  Church  to-day,  but  I  do  say  that  they  are  not 
using  the  intelligence  in  this  task  which  they  bring  to 
bear,  for  instance,  on  their  business." 

"  Perhaps  the  clergy  might  help,"  Hodder  suggested, 
and  added  more  seriously,  "  I  think  that  many  of  them 
are  honestly  trying  to  do  so." 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  Why  is  it,"  Mr.  Parr  continued  re 
flectively,  "that  ministers  as  a  whole  are  by  no  means  the 
men  they  were  ?  You  will  pardon  my  frankness.  When 
I  was  a  boy,  the  minister  was  looked  up  to  as  an  intellec 
tual  and  moral  force  to  be  reckoned  with.  I  have  heard 
it  assigned,  as  one  reason,  that  in  the  last  thirty  y^ars 
other  careers  have  opened  up,  careers  that  have  proved 
much  more  attractive  to  young  men  of  ability." 

"  Business  careers  ?  "  inquired  the  rector. 

"Precisely." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Hodder,  with  his  curious  smile, 


THE   PRIMROSE   PATH  41 

"the  ministry  gets  the  men  who  can't  succeed  at  anything 
else." 

"  Well,  that's  putting  it  rather  strong,"  answered  Mr. 
Parr,  actually  reddening  a  little.  "  But  come  now,  most 
young  men  would  rather  be  a  railroad  president  than  a 
bishop,  wouldn't  they  ?  " 

"  Most  young  men  would,"  agreed  Hodder,  quickly, 
"  but  they  are  not  the  young  men  who  ought  to  be  bishops, 
you'll  admit  that." 

The  financier,  be  it  recorded  to  his  credit,  did  not  lack 
appreciation  of  this  thrust,  and,  for  the  first  time,  he 
laughed  with  something  resembling  heartiness.  This 
laughter,  in  which  Hodder  joined,  seemed  suddenly  to 
put  them  on  a  new  footing  —  a  little  surprising  to  both. 

"Come,"  said  the  financier,  rising,  "I'm  sure  you  like 
pictures,  and  Langmaid  tells  me  you  have  a  fancy  for 
first  editions.  Would  you  care  to  go  to  the  gallery  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,"  the  rector  assented. 

Their  footsteps,  as  they  crossed  the  hardwood  floors, 
echoed  in  the  empty  house.  After  pausing  to  contem 
plate  a  Millet  on  the  stair  landing,  they  came  at  last  to 
the  huge,  silent  gallery,  where  the  soft  but  adequate  light 
fell  upon  many  masterpieces,  ancient  and  modern.  And 
it  was  here,  while  gazing  at  the  Corots  and  Bonheurs, 
Lawrences,  Romneys,  Copleys,  and  Halses,  that  Hodder's 
sense  of  their  owner's  isolation  grew  almost  overpowering. 
Once,  glancing  over  his  shoulder  at  Mr.  Parr,  he  surprised 
in  his  eyes  an  expression  almost  of  pain. 

"  These  pictures  must  give  you  great  pleasure,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  banker,  in  a  queer  voice,  "  I'm  always 
glad  when  any  one  appreciates  them.  I  never  come  in  here 
alone." 

Hodder  did  not  reply.  They  passed  along  to  an  up 
stairs  sitting-room,  which  must,  Hodder  thought,  be  di-, 
rectly  over  the  dining-room.  Between  its  windows  was  a 
case  containing  priceless  curios. 

"  My  wife  liked  this  room,"  Mr.  Parr  explained,  as  he 
opened  the  case.  When  they  had  inspected  it,  the  rector 
stood  for  a  moment  gazing  out  at  a  formal  garden  at  the 


42  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

back  of  the  house.  The  stalks  of  late  flowers  lay  wither 
ing,  but  here  and  there  the  leaves  were  still  vivid,  and 
clusters  of  crimson  berries  gleamed  in  the  autumn  sunshine. 
A  pergola  ran  down  the  middle,  and  through  denuded 
grape-vines  he  caught  a  glimpse,  at  the  far  end,  of  sculp 
tured  figures  and  curving  marble  benches  surrounding  a 
pool. 

"  What  a  wonderful  spot !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"My  daughter  Alison  designed  it." 

"  She  must  have  great  talent,"  said  the  rector. 

"  She's  gone  to  New  York  and  become  a  landscape  archi 
tect,"  said  his  host  with  a  perceptible  dryness.  "  Women 
in  these  days  are  apt  to  be  everything  except  what  the 
Lord  intended  them  to  be." 

They  went  downstairs,  and  Hodder  took  his  leave, 
although  he  felt  an  odd  reluctance  to  go.  Mr.  Parr  rang 
the  bell. 

"  I'll  send  you  down  in  the  motor,"  he  said. 

"  I'd  like  the  exercise  of  walking,"  said  the  rector.  "  I 
begin  to  miss  it  already,  in  the  city." 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  it,"  Mr. 
Parr  declared,  following  him  to  the  door.  "  I  hope  you'll 
drop  in  often.  Even  if  I'm  not  here,  the  gallery  and  the 
library  are  at  your  disposal." 

Their  eyes  met. 

"  You're  very  good,"  Hodder  replied,  and  went  down 
the  steps  and  through  the  open  doorway. 

Lost  in  reflection,  he  walked  eastward  with  long  and 
rapid  strides,  striving  to  reduce  to  order  in  his  mind  the 
impressions  the  visit  had  given  him,  only  to  find  them 
too  complex,  too  complicated  by  unlooked-for  emotions. 
Before  its  occurrence,  he  had,  in  spite  of  an  inherent  com 
mon  sense,  felt  a  little  uneasiness  over  the  prospective 
meeting  with  the  financier.  And  Nelson  Langmaid  had 
hinted,  good-naturedly,  that  it  was  his,  Hodder's,  business, 
to  get  on  good  terms  with  Mr.  Parr  —  otherwise  the  rector 
ship  of  St.  John's  might  not  prove  a  bed  of  roses.  Although 
the  lawyer  had  spoken  with  delicacy,  he  had  once  more 
misjudged  his  man  —  the  result  being  to  put  Hodder  on 


THE  PKIMROSE  PATH  43 

his  guard.  He  had  been  the  more  determined  not  to  cater 
to  the  banker. 

The  outcome  of  it  all  had  been  that  the  rector  left  him 
with  a  sense  of  having  crossed  barriers  forbidden  to  other 
men,  and  not  understanding  how  he  had  crossed  them. 
Whether  this  incipient  intimacy  were  ominous  or  propi 
tious,  whether  there  were  involved  in  it  a  germ  (engen 
dered  by  a  radical  difference  of  temperament)  capable  of 
developing  into  future  conflict,  he  could  not  now  decide. 
If  Eldon  Parr  were  Procrustes  he,  Hodder,  had  fitted  the 
bed,  and  to  say  the  least,  this  was  extraordinary,  if  not  a 
little  disquieting.  Now  and  again  his  thoughts  reverted 
to  the  garden,  and  to  the  woman  who  had  made  it.  Why 
had  she  deserted  ? 

At  length,  after  he  had  been  walking  for  nearly  an  hour, 
he  halted  and  looked  abouc  him.  He  was  within  a  few 
blocks  of  the  church,  a  little  to  one  side  of  Tower  Street, 
the  main  east  and  west  highway  of  the  city,  in  the  midst 
of  that  district  in  which  Mr.  Parr  had  made  the  remark 
that  poverty  was  inevitable.  Slovenly  and  depressing  at 
noonday,  it  seemed  now  frankly  to  have  flung  off  its  mask. 
Dusk  was  gathering,  and  with  it  a  smoke-stained  fog  that 
lent  a  sickly  tinge  to  the  lights.  Women  slunk  by  him: 
the  saloons,  apparently  closed,  and  many  houses  with 
veiled  windows  betrayed  secret  and  sinister  gleams.  In 
the  midst  of  a  block  rose  a  tall,  pretentious  though  cheaply 
constructed  building  with  the  words  "  Hotel  Albert "  in 
flaming  electric  letters  above  an  archway.  Once  more 
his  eye  read  Dalton  Street  on  a  lamp.  .  .  . 

Hodder  resumed  his  walk  more  slowly,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  reached  his  rooms  in  the  parish  house. 


CHAPTER   IV 

SOME   KIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY 


ALTHOUGH  he  found  the  complications  of  a  modern 
city  parish  somewhat  bewildering,  the  new  rector  entered 
into  his  duties  that  winter  with  apostolic  zeal.  He  was 
aware  of  limitations  and  anomalies,  but  his  faith  was 
boundless,  his  energy  the  subject  of  good-natured  comment 
by  his  vestry  and  parishioners,  whose  pressing  invitations 
to  dinners  he  was  often  compelled  to  refuse.  There  was 
in  John  Hodder  something  indefinable  that  inflamed  curi 
osity  and  left  it  unsatisfied. 

His  excuse  for  attending  these  dinners,  which  indeed 
were  relaxing  and  enjoyable,  he  found  in  the  obvious  duty 
of  getting  to  know  the  most  important  members  of  his 
congregation.  But  invariably  he  came  away  from  them 
with  an  inner  sense  of  having  been  baffled  in  this  object. 
With  a  few  exceptions,  these  modern  people  seemed  to 
have  no  time  for  friendship  in  the  real  meaning  of  the 
word,  no  desire  to  carry  a  relationship  beyond  a  certain 
point.  Although  he  was  their  spiritual  pastor,  he  knew 
less  about  most  of  them  at  the  end  of  the  winter  than  their 
butlers  and  their  maids. 

They  were  kind,  they  were  delightful,  they  were  inter 
ested  in  him  —  he  occasionally  thought  —  as  a  somewhat 
anachronistic  phenomenon.  They  petted,  respected  him, 
and  deferred  to  him.  He  represented  to  them  an  element 
in  life  they  recognized,  and  which  had  its  proper  niche. 
What  they  failed  to  acknowledge  was  his  point  of  view  — 
and  this  he  was  wise  enough  not  to  press  at  dinner  tables 
and  in  drawing-rooms  —  that  religion  should  have  the 

44 


KIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     45 

penetrability  of  ether ;  that  it  should  be  the  absorbent  of 
life.  He  did  not  have  to  commit  the  banality  of  remind 
ing  them  of  this  conviction  of  his  at  their  own  tables  ;  he 
had  sufficient  humour  and  penetration  to  credit  them  with 
knowing  it.  Nay,  he  went  farther  in  his  unsuspected 
analysis,  and  perceived  that  these  beliefs  made  one  of  his 
chief  attractions  for  them.  It  was  pleasant  to  have  authority 
in  a  black  coat  at  one's  board  ;  to  defer,  if  not  to  bend  to  it. 
The  traditions  of  fashion  demanded  a  clergyman  in  the 
milieu,  and  the  more  tenaciously  he  clung  to  his  prerogatives, 
the  better  they  liked  it. 

Although  they  were  conscious  of  a  certain  pressure, 
which  they  gently  resisted,  they  did  not  divine  that  the 
radiating  and  rugged  young  man  cherished  serious  designs 
upon  them.  He  did  not  expect  to  transform  the  world 
in  a  day,  especially  the  modern  world.  He  was  biding 
his  time,  awaiting  individual  opportunities. 

They  talked  to  him  of  the  parish  work,  congratulated 
him  on  the  vigour  with  which  he  had  attacked  it,  and 
often  declared  themselves  jealous  of  it  because  it  claimed 
too  much  of  him.  Dear  Dr.  Oilman,  they  said,  had  had 
neither  the  strength  nor  the  perception  of  modern  needs  ; 
and  McCrae,  the  first  assistant  clergyman,  while  a  good 
man,  was  a  plodder  and  lacking  in  imagination.  They 
talked  sympathetically  about  the  problems  of  the  poor. 
And  some  of  them  —  particularly  Mrs.  Wallis  Plimpton  — 
were  inclined  to  think  Hodder's  replies  a  trifle  noncom 
mittal.  The  trouble,  although  he  did  not  tell  them  so, 
was  that  he  himself  had  by  no  means  solved  the  problem. 
And  he  felt  a  certain  reluctance  to  discuss  the  riddle  of 
poverty  over  champagne  and  porcelain. 

Mrs.  Plimpton  and  Mrs.  Constable,  Mrs.  Ferguson, 
Mrs.  Langmaid,  Mrs.  Larrabbee,  Mrs.  Atterbury,  Mrs. 
Grey,  and  many  other  ladies  and  their  daughters  were 
honorary  members  of  his  guilds  and  societies,  and  found 
time  in  their  busy  lives  to  decorate  the  church,  adorn  the 
altar,  care  for  the  vestments,  and  visit  the  parish  house. 
Some  of  them  did  more  :  Mrs.  Larrabbee,  for  instance, 
when  she  was  in  town,  often  graced  the  girls'  classes  with 


46  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

her  presence,  which  was  a  little  disquieting  to  the  daughters 
of  immigrants:  a  little  disquieting,  too,  to  John  Hodder. 
During  the  three  years  that  had  elapsed  since  Mr.  Larrab- 
bee's  death,  she  had,  with  characteristic  grace  and  ease, 
taken  up  philanthropy  ;  become,  in  particular,  the  femi 
nine  patron  saint  of  Gait  House,  non-sectarian,  a  rescue 
home  for  the  erring  of  her  sex. 

There  were,  too,  in  this  higher  realm  of  wealth  in  and 
out  of  which  Hodder  plunged,  women  like  Mrs.  Constable 
(much  older  than  Mrs.  Larrabbee)  with  whom  philanthropy 
and  what  is  known  as  "  church  work  "  had  become  second 
nature  in  a  well-ordered  life,  and  who  attended  with  praise 
worthy  regularity  the  meetings  of  charitable  boards  and 
committees,  not  infrequently  taking  an  interest  in  individ 
uals  in  Mr.  Hodder's  classes.  With  her,  on  occasions,  he 
did  discuss  such  matters,  only  to  come  away  from  her  with 
his  bewilderment  deepened. 

It  was  only  natural  that  he  should  have  his  moods  of  de 
pression.  But  the  recurrent  flow  of  his  energy  swept  them 
away.  Cynicism  had  no  place  in  his  militant  Christianity, 
and  yet  there  were  times  when  he  wondered  whether  these 
good  people  really  wished  achievements  from  their  rector. 
They  had  the  air  of  saying  "Bravo! "  and  then  of  turning 
away.  And  he  did  not  conceal  from  himself  that  he  was 
really  doing  nothing  but  labour.  The  distances  were 
great ;  and  between  his  dinner  parties,  classes,  services, 
and  visits,  he  was  forced  to  sit  far  into  the  night  preparing 
his  sermons,  when  his  brain  was  not  so  keen  as  it  might 
have  been.  Indeed  —  and  this  thought  was  cynical  and 
out  of  character  —  he  asked  himself  on  one  occasion 
whether  his  principal  achievement  so  far  had  not  consisted 
in  getting  on  unusual  terms  with  Eldon  Parr.  They  were 
not  lacking  who  thought  so,  and  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
imply  it.  They  evidently  regarded  his  growing  intimacy 
with  the  banker  with  approval,  as  in  some  sort  a  supreme 
qualification  for  a  rector  of  St.  John's,  and  a  proof  of  un 
usual  abilities.  There  could  be  no  question,  for  instance, 
that  he  had  advanced  perceptibly  in  the  estimation  of  the 
wife  of  another  of  his  vestrymen,  Mrs.  Wallis  Plimpton. 


KIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     47 

The  daughter  of  Thurston  Gore,  with  all  her  astuteness 
and  real  estate,  was  of  a  naivete  in  regard  to  spiritual 
matters  that  Hodder  had  grown  to  recognize  as  imper 
meable.  In  an  evening  gown,  with  a  string  of  large  pearls 
resting  on  her  firm  and  glowing  neck,  she  appeared  a  con 
crete  refutation  of  the  notion  of  rebirth,  the  triumph 
of  an  unconscious  philosophy  of  material  common-sense. 
However,  in  parish  house  affairs,  Hodder  had  found  her 
practical  brain  of  no  slight  assistance. 

"  I  think  it  quite  wonderful,"  she  remarked,  on  the 
occasion  at  which  he  was  the  guest  of  honour  in  what  was 
still  called  the  new  Gore  mansion,  "  that  you  have  come 
to  know  Mr.  Parr  so  well  in  such  a  short  time.  How  did 
you  do  it,  Mr.  Hodder?  Of  course  Wallis  knows  him, 
and  sees  a  great  deal  of  him  in  business  matters.  He  relies 
on  Wallis.  But  they  tell  me  you  have  grown  more  intimate 
with  him  than  any  one  has  been  since  Alison  left  him." 

There  is,  in  Proverbs  or  Ecclesiastes,  a  formula  for  answer 
ing  people  in  accordance  with  their  point  of  view.  The 
rector  modestly  disclaimed  intimacy.  And  he  curbed  his 
curiosity  about  Alison  for  the  reason  that  he  preferred  to 
hear  her  story  from  another  source. 

"  Oh,  but  you  are  intimate!  "  Mrs.  Plimpton  protested. 
"  Everybody  says  so  —  that  Mr.  Parr  sends  for  you  all  the 
time.  What  is  he  like  when  he's  alone,  and  relaxed  ?  Is 
he  ever  relaxed?"  The  lady  had  a  habit  of  not  waiting 
for  answers  to  her  questions.  "  Do  you  know,  it  stirs  my 
imagination  tremendously  when  I  think  of  all  the  power 
that  man  has.  I  suppose  you  know  he  has  become  one  of 
a  very  small  group  of  men  who  control  this  country,  and 
naturally  he  has  been  cruelly  maligned.  All  he  has  to  do 
is  to  say  a  word  to  his  secretary,  and  he  can  make  men  or 
rain  them.  It  isn't  that  he  does  ruin  them  —  I  don't  mean 
that.  He  uses  his  wealth,  Wallis  says,  to  maintain  the 
prosperity  of  the  nation !  He  feels  his  trusteeship.  And 
he  is  so  generous  !  He  has  given  a  great  deal  to  the  church, 
and  now,"  she  added,  "I  am  sure  he  will  give  more." 

Hodder  was  appalled.  He  felt  helpless  before  the  weight 
of  this  onslaught. 


48  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  dare  say  he  will  continue  to  assist,  as  he  has  in  the 
past,"  he  managed  to  say. 

"  Of  course  it's  your  disinterestedness,"  she  proclaimed, 
examining  him  frankly.  "  He  feels  that  you  don't  want 
anything.  You  always  strike  me  as  so  splendidly  impar 
tial,  Mr.  Hodder." 

Fortunately,  he  was  spared  an  answer.  Mr.  Plimpton, 
who  was  wont  to  apply  his  gifts  as  a  toastmaster  to  his 
own  festivals,  hailed  him  from  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

And  Nelson  Langmaid,  who  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
dropping  into  Hodder's  rooms  in  the  parish  house  on  his 
way  uptown  for  a  chat  about  books,  had  been  struck  by 
the  rector's  friendship  with  the  banker. 

"  I  don't  understand  how  you  managed  it,  Hodder,  in 
such  a  short  time,"  he  declared.  "  Mr.  Parr's  a  difficult 
man.  In  all  these  years,  I've  been  closer  to  him  than  any 
one  else,  and  I  don't  know  him  to-day  half  as  well  as  you 
do." 

"  I  didn't  manage  it,"  said  Hodder,  briefly. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  lawyer,  quizzically,  "  you  needn't 
eat  me  up.  I'm  sure  you  didn't  do  it  on  purpose.  If  you 
had,  —  to  use  a  Hibernian  phrase, — you  never  would  have 
done  it.  I've  seen  it  tried  before.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
after  I'd  come  back  from  Bremerton,  that  was  the  one  thing 
I  was  afraid  of  —  that  you  mightn't  get  along  with  him." 

Hodder  himself  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  relation 
ship.  It  troubled  him  vaguely,  for  Mr.  Parr  was  the 
aggressor ;  and  often  at  dusk,  when  Hodder  was  working 
under  his  study  lamp,  the  telephone  would  ring,  and  on 
taking  down  the  receiver  he  would  hear  the  banker's  voice. 
"  I'm  alone  to-night,  Mr.  Hodder.  Will  you  come  and 
have  dinner  with  me  ?  " 

Had  he  known  it,  this  was  a  different  method  of  com 
munication  than  that  which  the  financier  usually  em 
ployed,  one  which  should  have  flattered  him.  If  Wallis 
Plimpton,  for  instance,  had  received  such  a  personal  mes 
sage,  the  fact  would  not  have  remained  unknown  the  next 
day  at  his  club.  Sometimes  it  was  impossible  for  Hodder 
to  go,  and  he  said  so;  but  he  always  went  when  he  could. 


EIDDLES    OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTUKY     49 

The  unwonted  note  of  appeal  (which  the  telephone 
seemed  somehow  to  enhance)  in  Mr.  Parr's  voice,  never 
failed  to  find  a  response  in  the  rector's  heart,  and  he 
would  ponder  over  it  as  he  walked  across  to  Tower  Street 
to  take  the  electric  car  for  the  six-mile  trip  westward. 

This  note  of  appeal  he  inevitably  contrasted  with  the 
dry,  matter-of-fact  reserve  of  his  greeting  at  the  great 
house,  which  loomed  all  the  greater  in  the  darkness. 
Unsatisfactory,  from  many  points  of  view,  as  these  even 
ings  were,  they  served  to  keep  whetted  Hodder's  curios 
ity  as  to  the  life  of  this  extraordinary  man.  All  of  its 
vaster  significance  for  the  world,  its  tremendous  machin 
ery,  was  out  of  his  sight. 

Mr.  Parr  seemed  indeed  to  regard  the  rest  of  his  fellow- 
creatures  with  the  suspicion  at  which  Langmaid  had 
hinted,  to  look  askance  at  the  amenities  people  tentatively 
held  out  to  him.  And  the  private  watchman  whom  Hod- 
der  sometimes  met  in  the  darkness,  and  who  invariably 
scrutinized  pedestrians  on  Park  Street,  seemed  symbolic 
of  this  attitude.  On  rare  occasions,  when  in  town,  the 
financier  dined  out,  limiting  himself  to  a  few  houses. 
Once  in  a  long  while  he  attended  what  are  known  as  ban 
quets,  such  as  those  given  by  the  Chamber  of  Commerce, 
though  he  generally  refused  to  speak.  Hodder,  through 
Mr.  Parr's  intervention,  had  gone  to  one  of  these,  ably 
and  breezily  presided  over  by  the  versatile  Mr.  Plimpton. 

Hodder  felt  not  only  curiosity  and  sympathy,  but  a 
vexing  sense  of  the  fruitlessness  of  his  visits  to  Park 
Street.  Mr.  Parr  seemed  to  like  to  have  him  there.  And 
the  very  fact  that  the  conversation  rarely  took  any  vital 
turn  oddly  contributed  to  the  increasing  permanence  of 
the  lien.  To  venture  on  any  topic  relating  to  the  affairs 
of  the  day  were  merely  to  summon  forth  the  banker's 
dogmatism,  and  Hodder's  own  opinions  on  such  matters 
were  now  in  a  strange  and  unsettled  state.  Mr.  Parr 
liked  best  to  talk  of  his  treasures,  and  of  the  circum 
stances  during  his  trips  abroad  that  had  led  to  their 
acquirement.  Once  the  banker  had  asked  him  about  par 
ish  house  matters. 


50  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

"I'm  told  you're  working  very  hard  —  stirring  up 
McCrae.  He  needs  it." 

"  I'm  only  trying  to  study  the  situation,"  Hodder 
replied.  "  I  don't  think  you  quite  do  justice  to  McCrae," 
he  added ;  "  he's  very  faithful,  and  seems  to  understand 
those  people  thoroughly." 

Mr.  Parr  smiled. 

"  And  what  conclusions  have  you  come  to  ?  If  you 
think  the  system  should  be  enlarged  and  reorganized  I 
am  willing  at  any  time  to  go  over  it  with  you,  with  a  view 
to  making  an  additional  contribution.  Personally,  while 
I  have  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate,  I'm  not  at  all  sure 
that  much  of  the  energy  and  money  put  into  the  institu 
tional  work  of  churches  isn't  wasted." 

"I  haven't  come  to  any  conclusions  —  yet,"  said  the 
rector,  with  a  touch  of  sadness.  "  Perhaps  I  demand  too 
much  —  expect  too  much." 

The  financier,  deep  in  his  leather  chair  under  the 
shaded  light,  the  tips  of  his  fingers  pressed  together,  re 
garded  the  younger  man  thoughtfully,  but  the  smile  lin 
gered  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  told  you  you  would  meet  problems,"  he  said. 


Hodder's  cosmos  might  have  been  compared,  indeed,  to 
that  set  forth  in  the  Ptolemaic  theory  of  the  ancients. 
Like  a  cleverly  carved  Chinese  object  of  ivory  in  the  bank 
er's  collection,  it  was  a  system  of  spheres,  touching,  concen 
tric,  yet  separate.  In  an  outer  space  swung  Mr.  Parr  ; 
then  came  the  scarcely  less  rarefied  atmosphere  of  the  Con 
stables  and  Atterburys,  Fergusons,  Plimptons,  Langmaids, 
Prestons,  Larrabbees,  Greys,  and  Gores,  and  then  a 
smaller  sphere  which  claims  but  a  passing  mention. 
There  were,  in  the  congregation  of  St.  John's,  a  few  peo 
ple  of  moderate  means  whose  houses  or  apartments  the 
rector  visited  ;  people  to  whom  modern  life  was  increas 
ingly  perplexing. 

In  these  ranks  were  certain  maiden  ladies  and  widows 


RIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     51 

who  found  in  church  work  an  outlet  to  an  otherwise  cir 
cumscribed  existence.  Hodder  met  them  continually  in 
his  daily  rounds.  There  were  people  like  the  Bradleys, 
who  rented  half  a  pew  and  never  missed  a  Sunday  ;  Mr. 
Bradley,  an  elderly  man  whose  children  had  scattered, 
was  an  upper  clerk  in  one  of  Mr.  Parr's  trust  companies : 
there  were  bachelors  and  young  women,  married  or  single, 
who  taught  in  the  Sunday  school  or  helped  with  the  night 
classes.  For  the  most  part,  all  of  these  mentioned  above 
belonged  to  an  element  that  once  had  had  a  comfortable 
and  well-recognized  place  in  the  community,  yet  had 
somehow  been  displaced.  Many  of  them  were  connected 
by  blood  with  more  fortunate  parishioners,  but  economic 
pressure  had  scattered  them  throughout  new  neighbour 
hoods  and  suburbs.  Tradition  still  bound  them  to  St. 
John's. 

With  no  fixed  orbit,  the  rector  cut  at  random  through 
all  of  these  strata,  and  into  a  fourth.  Not  very  far  into 
it,  for  this  apparently  went  down  to  limitless  depths,  the 
very  contemplation  of  which  made  him  dizzy.  The  par 
ish  house  seemed  to  float  precariously  on  its  surface. 

Owing  partly  to  the  old-fashioned  ideas  of  Dr.  Oilman, 
and  partly  to  the  conservatism  of  its  vestry,  the  institu- 
tionalism  of  St.  John's  was  by  no  means  up  to  date.  No 
settlement  house,  with  day  nurseries,  was  maintained  in 
the  slums.  The  parish  house,  built  in  the  early  nineties, 
had  its  gymnasium  hall  and  class  and  reading  rooms,  but 
was  not  what  in  these  rapidly  moving  times  would  be 
called  modern.  Presiding  over  its  activities,  and  sec 
onded  by  a  pale,  but  earnest  young  man  recently  or 
dained,  was  Hodder's  first  assistant,  the  Reverend  Mr. 
McCrae. 

McCrae  was  another  puzzle.  He  was  fifty  and  gaunt, 
with  a  wide  flat  forehead  and  thinning,  grey  hair,  and 
wore  steel  spectacles.  He  had  a  numerous  family.  His 
speech,  of  which  he  was  sparing,  bore  strong  traces  of  a 
Caledonian  accent.  And  this,  with  the  addition  of  the 
fact  that  he  was  painstaking  and  methodical  in  his  duties, 
and  that  his  sermons  were  orthodox  in  the  sense  that  they 


52  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

were  extremely  non-committal,  was  all  that  Hodder  knew 
about  him  for  many  months.  He  never  doubted,  how 
ever,  the  man's  sincerity  and  loyalty. 

But  McCrae  had  a  peculiar  effect  on  him,  and  as  time 
went  on,  his  conviction  deepened  that  his  assistant  was 
watching  him.  The  fact  that  this  tacit  criticism  did  not 
seem  unkindly  did  not  greatly  alleviate  the  impatience 
that  he  felt  from  time  to  time.  He  had  formed  a  higher 
estimate  of  McCrae's  abilities  than  that  generally  prevail 
ing  throughout  the  parish  ;  and  in  spite  of,  perhaps 
because  of  his  attitude,  was  drawn  toward  the  man. 
This  attitude,  as  Hodder  analyzed  it  from  the  expressions 
he  occasionally  surprised  on  his  assistant's  face,  was  one 
of  tolerance  and  experience,  contemplating,  with  a  faint 
amusement  and  a  certain  regret,  the  wasteful  expenditure 
of  youthful  vitality.  Yet  it  involved  more.  McCrae 
looked  as  if  he  knew  —  knew  many  things  that  he  deemed 
it  necessary  for  the  new  rector  to  find  out  by  experience. 

But  he  was  a  difficult  man  to  talk  to. 

If  the  truth  be  told,  the  more  Hodder  became  absorbed 
in  these  activities  of  the  parish  house,  the  greater  grew 
his  perplexity,  the  more  acute  his  feeling  of  incomplete 
ness  ;  or  rather,  his  sense  that  the  principle  was  somehow 
fundamentally  at  fault.  Out  of  the  waters  of  the  prole 
tariat  they  fished,  assiduously  and  benignly,  but  at  ran 
dom,  strange  specimens!  brought  them,  as  it  were,  blink 
ing  to  the  light,  and  held  them  by  sheer  struggling. 
And  sometimes,  when  they  slipped  away,  dived  after 
them.  The  young  curate,  Mr.  Tompkinson,  for  the  most 
part  did  the  diving  ;  or,  in  scriptural  language,  the  search 
ing  after  the  lost  sheep. 

The  results  accomplished  seemed  indeed,  as  Mr.  Parr 
had  remarked,  strangely  disproportionate  to  the  efforts,  — 
for  they  laboured  abundantly.  The  Italian  mothers  ap 
peared  stolidly  appreciative  of  the  altruism  of  Miss  Ram 
say,  who  taught  the  kindergarten,  in  taking  their  charges 
off  their  hands  for  three  hours  of  a  morning,  and  the 
same  might  be  said  of  the  Jews  and  Germans  and  Rus 
sians.  The  newsboys  enjoyed  the  gymnasium  and  read- 


KIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     53 

ing-rooms :  some  of  them  were  drafted  into  the  choir,  yet 
the  singing  of  Te  Deums  failed  somehow  to  accomplish 
the  miracle  of  regeneration.  The  boys,  as  a  rule,  were 
happier,  no  doubt ;  the  new  environments  not  wholly 
without  results.  But  the  rector  was  an  idealist. 

He  strove  hard  to  become  their  friend,  and  that  of  the 
men  ;  to  win  their  confidence,  and  with  a  considerable 
measure  of  success.  On  more  than  one  occasion  he  threw 
aside  his  clerical  coat  and  put  on  boxing-gloves,  and  he 
gave  a  series  of  lectures,  with  lantern  slides,  collected 
during  the  six  months  he  had  once  spent  in  Europe.  The 
Irish-Americans  and  the  Germans  were  the  readiest  to 
respond,  and  these  were  for  the  most  part  young  working- 
men  and  youths  by  no  means  destitute.  When  they  were 
out  of  a  place,  he  would  often  run  across  them  in  the 
reading-room  or  sitting  among  the  lockers  beside  the 
gymnasium,  and  they  would  rise  and  talk  to  him  cordially 
and  even  familiarly  about  their  affairs.  They  liked  and 
trusted  him  —  on  a  tacit  condition.  There  was  a  bound 
ary  he  might  not  cross.  And  the  existence  of  that  bound 
ary  did  not  seem  to  trouble  McCrae. 

One  night  as  he  stood  with  his  assistant  in  the  hall  after 
the  men  had  gone,  Hodder  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 

"  Look  here,  McCrae,"  he  broke  out,  "  these  men  never 
come  to  church  —  or  only  a  very  few  of  them." 

"  No  more  they  do,"  McCrae  agreed. 

"  Why  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Ye've  asked  them,  perhaps." 

"  I've  spoken  to  one  or  two  of  them,"  admitted  the  rector. 

"  And  what  do  they  tell  you  ?  " 

Hodder  smiled. 

"They  don't  tell  me  anything.     They  dodge." 

"Precisely,"  said  McCrae. 

"  We're  not  making  Christians  of  them,"  said  Hodder, 
beginning  to  walk  up  and  down.  "  Why  is  it  ?  " 

"  It's  a  big  question." 

"  It  is  a  big  question.  It's  the  question  of  all  questions, 
it  seems  to  me.  The  function  of  the  Church,  in  my  opin 
ion,  is  to  make  Christians." 


54  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"Try  to  teach  them  religion,"  said  McCrae  —  he  almost 
pronounced  it  releegion  —  "  and  see  what  happens.  Ye'll 
have  no  classes  at  all.  They  only  come,  the  best  of  them, 
because  ye  let  them  alone  that  way,  and  they  get  a  little 
decency  and  society  help.  It's  somewhat  to  keep  them 
out  of  the  dance-halls  and  saloons  maybe." 

"  It's  not  enough,"  the  rector  asserted.  "  You've  had 
a  great  deal  of  experience  with  them.  And  I  want  to 
know  why,  in  your  view,  more  of  them  don't  come  into 
the  Church." 

44  Would  ye  put  Jimmy  Flanagan  and  Otto  Bauer  and 
Tony  Baldassaro  in  Mr.  Parr's  pew  ?  "  McCrae  inquired, 
with  a  slight  flavour  of  irony  that  was  not  ill-natured. 
44  Or  perhaps  Mrs.  Larrabbee  would  make  room  for  them  ?  " 

44  I've  considered  that,  of  course,"  replied  Hodder, 
thoughtfully,  though  he  was  a  little  surprised  that  McCrae 
should  have  mentioned  it.  44  You  think  their  reasons  are 
social,  then,  —  that  they  feel  the  gap.  I  feel  it  myself 
most  strongly.  And  yet  none  of  these  men  are  Socialists. 
If  they  were,  they  wouldn't  come  here  to  the  parish 
house." 

44  They're  not  Socialists,"  agreed  McCrae. 

44  But  there  is  room  in  the  back  and  sides  of  the  church, 
and  there  is  the  early  service  and  the  Sunday  night  ser 
vice,  when  the  pews  are  free.  Why  don't  they  come  to 
these  ?  " 

44  Religion  doesn't  appeal  to  them." 

44  Why  not  ?  " 

44  Ye've  asked  me  a  riddle.  All  I  know  is  that  the 
minute  ye  begin  to  preach,  off  they  go  and  never  come 
back." 

Hodder,  with  unconscious  fixity,  looked  into  his  assist 
ant's  honest  face.  He  had  an  exasperating  notion  that 
McCrae  might  have  said  more,  if  he  would. 

44  Haven't  you  a  theory  ?  " 

44  Try  yourself,"  said  McCrae.  His  manner  was  abrupt, 
yet  oddly  enough,  not  ungracious. 

44  Don't  think  I'm  criticizing,"  said  the  rector,  quickly. 

44 1  know  well  ye're  not." 


KIDDLES   OF   THE   TWENTIETH   CENTURY     55 

"  I've  been  trying  to  learn.  It  seems  to  me  that  we 
are  only  accomplishing  half  our  task,  and  I  know  that  St. 
John's  is  not  unique  in  this  respect.  I've  been  talking  to 
Andrews,  of  Trinity,  about  their  poor." 

"  Does  he  give  you  a  remedy  ?  " 

"No,"  Hodder  said.  "He  can't  see  any  more  than  I 
can  why  Christianity  doesn't  appeal  any  longer.  The 
fathers  and  mothers  of  these  people  went  to  church,  in  the 
old  country  and  in  this.  Of  course  he  sees,  as  you  and  I 
do,  that  society  has  settled  into  layers,  and  that  the  layers 
won't  mix.  And  he  seems  to  agree  with  me  that  there  is 
a  good  deal  of  energy  exerted  for  a  comparatively  small 
return." 

"  I  understand  that's  what  Mr.  Parr  says." 

These  references  to  Mr.  Parr  disturbed  Hodder.  He 
had  sometimes  wondered,  when  he  had  been  compelled  to 
speak  about  his  visits  to  the  financier,  how  McCrae  re 
garded  them.  He  was  sure  that  McCrae  did  regard 
them. 

"  Mr.  Parr  is  willing  to  be  even  more  generous  than  he 
has  been,"  Hodder  said.  "  The  point  is,  whether  it's  wise 
to  enlarge  our  scope  on  the  present  plan.  What  do  you 
think  ?  " 

"  Ye  can  reach  more,"  McCrae  spoke  without  enthusiasm. 

"  What's  the  use  of  reaching  them,  only  to  touch  them  ? 
In  addition  to  being  helped  materially  and  socially,  and 
kept  away  from  the  dance-halls  and  saloons,  they  ought  to 
be  fired  by  the  Gospels,  to  be  remade.  They  should  be 
going  out  into  the  highways  and  byways  to  bring  others 
into  the  church." 

The  Scotchman's  face  changed  a  little.  For  an  instant 
his  eyes  lighted  up,  whether  in  sympathy  or  commisera 
tion  or  both,  Hodder  could  not  tell. 

"  I'm  with  ye,  Mr.  Hodder,  if  ye'll  show  me  the  way. 
But  oughtn't  we  to  begin  at  both  ends  ?  " 

"  At  both  ends  ?  "  Hodder  repeated. 

"  Surely.  With  the  people  in  the  pews  ?  Oughtn't 
we  to  be  firing  them,  too  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  rector.     "  You're  right." 


56  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

He  turned  away,  to  feel  McCrae's  hand  on  his  sleeve. 

"  Maybe  it  will  come,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said.  "  There's 
no  telling  when  the  Kght  will  strike  in." 

It  was  the  nearest  to  optimism  he  had  ever  known  his 
assistant  to  approach. 

"McCrae,"  he  asked,  "have  you  ever  tried  to  do  any 
thing  with  Dalton  Street  ?  " 

"Dalton  Street?" 

The  real  McCrae,  whom  he  had  seemed  to  see  emerging, 
retired  abruptly,  presenting  his  former  baffling  and  non 
committal  exterior. 

"  Yes,"  Hodder  forced  himself  to  go  on,  and  it  came  to 
him  that  he  had  repeated  virtually  the  same  words  to  Mr. 
Parr,  "it  is  at  our  very  doors,  a  continual  reproach. 
There  is  real  poverty  in  those  rooming  houses,  and  I  have 
never  seen  vice  so  defiant  and  shameless." 

"  It's  a  shifty  place,  that,"  McCrae  replied.  "  They're 
in  it  one  day  and  gone  the  next,  a  sort  of  catch-basin  for 
all  the  rubbish  of  the  city.  I  can  recall  when  decent  peo 
ple  lived  there,  and  now  it's  all  light  housekeeping  and 
dives  and  what  not." 

"  But  that  doesn't  relieve  us  of  responsibility,"  Hodder 
observed. 

"  I'm  not  denying  it.  I  think  ye'll  find  there's  very 
little  to  get  hold  of." 

Once  more,  he  had  the  air  of  stopping  short,  of  being 
able  to  say  more.  Hodder  refrained  from  pressing  him. 

Dalton  Street  continued  to  haunt  him.  And  often  at 
nightfall,  as  he  hurried  back  to  his  bright  rooms  in  the 
parish  house  from  some  of  the  many  errands  that  absorbed 
his  time,  he  had  a  feeling  of  self-accusation  as  he  avoided 
women  wearily  treading  the  pavements,  or  girls  and  chil 
dren  plodding  homeward  through  the  wet,  wintry  streets. 
Some  glanced  at  him  with  heavy  eyes,  others  passed  sul 
lenly,  with  bent  heads.  At  such  moments  his  sense  of 
helplessness  was  overpowering.  He  could  not  follow 
them  to  the  dreary  dwellings  where  they  lodged.  .  .  . 

Eldon  Parr  had  said  that  poverty  was  inevitable. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE  HECTOR   HAS   MORE  FOOD   FOR   THOUGHT 


SUNDAY  after  Sunday  Hodder  looked  upon  the  same 
picture,  the  winter  light  filtering  through  emblazoned 
windows,  falling  athwart  stone  pillars,  and  staining  with 
rich  colours  the  marble  of  the  centre  aisle.  The  organ 
rolled  out  hymns  and  anthems,  the  voices  of  the  white- 
robed  choir  echoed  among  the  arches.  And  Hodder's  eye, 
sweeping  over  the  decorous  congregation,  grew  to  recog 
nize  certain  landmarks:  Eldon  Parr,  rigid  at  one  end  of 
his  empty  pew;  little  Everett  Constable,  comfortably,  but 
always  pompously  settled  at  one  end  of  his,  his  white- 
haired  and  distinguished-looking  wife  at  the  other.  The 
space  between  them  had  once  been  filled  by  their  children. 
There  was  Mr.  Ferguson,  who  occasionally  stroked  his 
black  whiskers  with  a  prodigious  solemnity;  Mrs.  Fer 
guson,  resplendent  and  always  a  little  warm,  and  their 
daughter  Nan,  dainty  and  appealing,  her  eyes  uplifted  and 
questioning. 

The  Plimptons,  with  their  rubicund  and  aggressively 
healthy  offspring,  were  always  in  evidence.  And  there 
was  Mrs.  Larrabbee.  What  between  wealth  and  youth, 
independence  and  initiative,  a  widowhood  now  emerged 
from  a  mourning  unexceptionable,  an  elegance  so  unob 
trusive  as  to  border  on  mystery,  she  never  failed  to  agi 
tate  any  atmosphere  she  entered,  even  that  of  prayer. 
From  time  to  time,  Hodder  himself  was  uncomfortably 
aware  of  her  presence,  and  he  read  in  her  upturned  face 
an  interest  which,  by  a  little  stretch  of  the  imagination, 
might  have  been  deemed  personal.  .  .  . 

67 


58  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

Another  was  Gordon  Atterbury,  still  known  as  "  young 
Gordon,"  though  his  father  was  dead,  and  he  was  in  the 
vestry.  He  was  unmarried  and  forty-five,  and  Mrs. 
Larrabbee  had  said  he  reminded  her  of  a  shrivelling  seed 
set  aside  from  a  once  fruitful  crop.  He  wore,  invariably, 
checked  trousers  and  a  black  cutaway  coat,  eyeglasses 
that  fell  off  when  he  squinted,  and  were  saved  from  de 
struction  by  a  gold  chain.  No  wedding  or  funeral  was 
complete  without  him.  And  one  morning,  as  he  joined 
Mr.  Parr  and  the  other  gentlemen  who  responded  to  the 
appeal,  "  Let  your  light  so  shine  before  men,"  a  strange, 
ironical  question  entered  the  rector's  mind — was  Gordon 
Atterbury  the  logical  product  of  those  doctrines  which  he, 
Hodder,  preached  with  such  feeling  and  conviction  ? 

None,  at  least,  was  so  fervent  a  defender  of  the  faith,  so 
punctilious  in  all  observances,  so  constant  at  the  altar 
rail  ;  none  so  versed  in  rubrics,  ritual,  and  canon  law; 
none  had  such  a  knowledge  of  the  Church  fathers.  Mr. 
Atterbury  delighted  to  discuss  them  with  the  rector  at  the 
dinner  parties  where  they  met ;  none  was  more  zealous 
for  foreign  missions.  He  was  the  treasurer  of  St.  John's. 

It  should  undoubtedly  have  been  a  consolation  to  any 
rector  to  possess  Mr.  Atterbury's  unqualified  approval,  to 
listen  to  his  somewhat  delphic  compliments,  —  heralded 
by  a  clearing  of  the  throat.  He  represented  the  faith  as 
delivered  to  the  saints,  and  he  spoke  for  those  in  the  con 
gregation  to  whom  it  was  precious.  Why  was  it  that,  to 
Hodder,  he  should  gradually  have  assumed  something  of 
the  aspect  of  a  Cerberus  ?  Why  was  it  that  he  incited  a 
perverse  desire  to  utter  heresies  ? 

Hodder  invariabty  turned  from  his  contemplation  of 
Gordon  Atterbury  to  the  double  Waring  pew,  which 
went  from  aisle  to  aisle.  In  his  heart,  he  would  have 
preferred  the  approval  of  Eleanor  Goodrich  and  her  hus 
band,  and  of  Asa  Waring.  Instinct  spoke  to  him  here; 
he  seemed  to  read  in  their  faces  that  he  failed  to  strike 
in  them  responsive  chords.  He  was  drawn  to  them:  the 
conviction  grew  upon  him  that  he  did  not  reach  them, 
and  it  troubled  him,  as  he  thought,  disproportionately. 


THE  RECTOR  HAS  MORE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     59 

He  could  not  expect  to  reach  all.  But  they  were  the 
type  to  which  he  most  wished  to  appeal;  of  all  of  his  flock, 
this  family  seemed  best  to  preserve  the  vitality  and  ideals 
of  the  city  and  nation.  Asa  Waring  was  a  splendid,  un 
compromising  survival;  his  piercing  eyes  sometimes  met 
Hodder's  across  the  church,  and  they  held  for  him  a 
question  and  a  riddle.  Eleanor  Goodrich  bore  on  her 
features  the  stamp  of  true  nobility  of  character,  and  her 
husband,  Hodder  knew,  was  a  man  among  men.  In  ad 
dition  to  a  respected  lineage,  he  possessed  an  unusual 
blending  of  aggressiveness  and  personal  charm  that  men 
found  irresistible.  .  .  . 

The  rector's  office  in  the  parish  house  was  a  business 
like  room  on  the  first  floor,  fitted  up  with  a  desk,  a  table, 
straight-backed  chairs,  and  a  revolving  bookcase.  And 
to  it,  one  windy  morning  in  March,  came  Eleanor  Good 
rich.  Hodder  rose  to  greet  her  with  an  eagerness  which, 
from  his  kindly  yet  penetrating  glance,  she  did  not 
suspect. 

"  Am  I  interrupting  you,  Mr.  Hodder  ?  "  she  asked,  a 
little  breathlessly. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said,  drawing  up  a  chair.  "  Won't 
you  sit  down  ?  " 

She  obeyed.  There  was  an  awkward  pause  during 
which  the  colour  slowly  rose  to  her  face. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  one  or  two  things,"  she  began, 
not  very  steadily.  "  As  perhaps  you  may  know,  I  was 
brought  up  in  this  church,  baptized  and  confirmed  in  it. 
I've  come  to  fear  that,  when  I  was  confirmed,  I  wasn't 
old  enough  to  know  what  I  was  doing." 

She  took  a  deep  breath,  amazed  at  her  boldness,  for  this 
wasn't  in  the  least  how  she  had  meant  to  begin.  And 
she  gazed  at  the  rector  anxiously.  To  her  surprise,  he 
did  not  appear  to  be  inordinately  shocked. 

"  Do  you  know  any  better  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Perhaps  not,"  she  admitted.  "But  the  things  of 
which  I  was  sure  at  that  time  I  am  not  sure  of  now.  My 
faith  is  —  is  not  as  complete." 

"Faith  may  be  likened  to  an  egg,  Mrs.  Goodrich,"  he 


60  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

said.  "  It  must  be  kept  whole.  If  the  shell  is  chipped, 
it  is  spoiled." 

Eleanor  plucked  up  her  courage.  Eggs,  she  declared, 
had  been  used  as  illustrations  by  conservatives  before  now. 

Hodder  relieved  her  by  smiling  in  ready  appreciation. 

"  Columbus  had  reference  to  this  world,"  he  said.  "  I 
was  thinking  of  a  more  perfect  one." 

"Oh!  "  she  cried,  "I  dare  say  there  is  a  more  perfect 
one.  I  should  hate  to  think  there  wasn't  —  but  I  can't 
imagine  it.  There's  nothing  in  the  Bible  in  the  way  of 
description  of  it  to  make  me  really  wish  to  go  there.  The 
New  Jerusalem  is  too  insipid,  too  material.  I'm  sure  I'm 
shocking  you,  but  I  must  be  honest,  and  say  what  I  feel." 

"  If  some  others  were  as  honest,"  said  the  rector,  "  the 
problems  of  clergymen  would  be  much  easier.  And  it  is 
precisely  because  people  will  not  tell  us  what  they  feel 
that  we  are  left  in  the  dark  and  cannot  help  them.  Of 
course,  the  language  of  St.  John  about  the  future  is 
figurative." 

"Figurative, — yes,"  she  consented,  "but  not  figurative 
in  a  way  that  helps  me,  a  modern  American  woman.  The 
figures,  to  be  of  any  use,  ought  to  appeal  to  my  imagina 
tion —  oughtn't  they?  But  they  don't.  I  can't  see  any 
utility  in  such  a  heaven  —  it  seems  powerless  to  enter  as 
a  factor  into  my  life." 

"  It  is  probable  that  we  are  not  meant  to  know  anything 
about  the  future." 

"Then  I  wish  it  hadn't  been  made  so  explicit.  Its 
very  definiteness  is  somehow  —  stultifying.  And,  Mr. 
Hodder,  if  we  were  not  meant  to  know  its  details,  it 
seems  to  me  that  if  the  hereafter  is  to  have  any  real  value 
and  influence  over  our  lives  here,  we  should  know  some 
thing  of  its  conditions,  because  it  must  be  in  some  sense  a 
continuation  of  this.  I'm  not  sure  that  I  make  myself 
clear." 

"  Admirably  clear.  But  we  have  our  Lord's  example 
of  how  to  live  here." 

"  If  we  could  be  sure,"  said  Eleanor,  "just  what  that 
example  meant," 


THE  RECTOB  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     61 

Hodder  was  silent  a  moment. 

"  You  mean  that  you  cannot  accept  what  the  Church 
teaches  about  his  life  ?  "  he  asked. 

"No,  I  can't,"  she  faltered.  "You  have  helped  me  to 
say  it.  I  want  to  have  the  Church's  side  better  explained, 
—  that's  why  I'm  here."  She  glanced  up  at  him,  hesitat 
ingly,  with  a  puzzled  wonder,  such  a  positive,  dynamic 
representative  of  that  teaching  did  he  appear.  "  And  my 
husband  can't,  —  so  many  people  I  know  can't,  Mr.  Hodder. 
Only,  some  of  them  don't  mention  the  fact.  They  accept 
it.  And  you  say  things  with  such  a  certainty  — "  she 
paused. 

"  I  know,"  he  replied,  "  I  know.  I  have  felt  it  since  I 
have  come  here  more  than  ever  before."  He  did  not  add 
that  he  had  felt  it  particularly  about  her,  about  her  hus 
band  :  nor  did  he  give  voice  to  his  instinctive  conviction 
that  he  respected  and  admired  these  two  more  than  a  hun 
dred  others  whose  professed  orthodoxy  was  without  a  flaw. 
"  What  is  it  in  particular,"  he  asked,  troubled,  "  that  you 
cannot  accept  ?  I  will  do  my  best  to  help  you." 

"Well  —  "  she  hesitated  again. 

"  Please  continue  to  be  frank,"  he  begged. 

"  I  can't  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  the  virgin  birth," 
she  responded  in  a  low  voice;  "it  seems  to  me  so  —  so 
material.  And  I  feel  I  am  stating  a  difficulty  that  many 
have,  Mr.  Hodder.  Why  should  it  have  been  thought 
necessary  for  God  to  have  departed  from  what  is  really 
a  sacred  and  sublime  fact  in  nature,  to  resort  to  a 
material  proof  in  order  to  convince  a  doubting  humanity 
that  Jesus  was  his  Son  ?  Oughtn't  the  proof  of  Christ's 
essential  Godship  to  lie  in  his  life,  to  be  discerned  by  the 
spiritual  ;  and  wasn't  he  continually  rebuking  those  who 
demanded  material  proof  ?  The  very  acceptance  of  a  ma 
terial  proof,  it  seems  to  me,  is  a  denial  of  faith,  since  faith 
ceases  to  have  any  worth  whatever  the  moment  the  demand 
for  such  proof  is  gratified.  Knowledge  puts  faith  out  of 
the  question,  for  faith  to  me  means  a  trusting  on  spiritual 
grounds.  And  surely  the  acceptance  of  scriptural  state 
ments  like  that  of  the  miraculous  birth  without  investi- 


62  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE  CUP 

gation  is  not  faith  —  it  is  mere  credulity.  If  Jesus 
had  been  born  in  a  miraculous  way,  the  disciples  must 
have  known  it.  Joseph  must  have  known  it  when  he  heard 
the  answer  '  I  must  be  about  my  father's  business,'  and 
their  doubts  are  unexplained." 

"  I  see  you  have  been  investigating,"  said  the  rector. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Eleanor,  with  an  unconscious  shade  of 
defiance,  "  people  want  to  know,  Mr.  Hodder,  —  they  want 
to  know  the  truth.  And  if  you  consider  the  preponder 
ance  of  the  evidence  of  the  Gospels  themselves  —  my 
brother-in-law  says  —  you  will  find  that  the  miraculous 
birth  has  very  little  to  stand  on.  Take  out  the  first  two 
chapters  of  Matthew  and  Luke,  and  the  rest  of  the  four 
Gospels  practically  contradict  it.  The  genealogies  differ, 
and  they  both  trace  through  Joseph." 

"  I  think  people  suffer  in  these  days  from  giving  too 
much  weight  to  the  critics  of  Christianity,"  said  the  rector, 
"  from  not  pondering  more  deeply  on  its  underlying  truths. 
Do  not  think  that  I  am  accusing  you  of  superficiality,  Mrs. 
Goodrich  ;  I  am  sure  you  wish  to  go  to  the  bottom,  or  else 
you  would  be  satisfied  with  what  you  have  already  read 
and  heard." 

"  I  do,"  she  murmured. 

*'  And  the  more  one  reflects  on  the  life  of  our  Lord, 
the  more  one  is  convinced  that  the  doctrine  of  the  virgin 
birth  is  a  vital  essential;  without  it  Christianity  falls  to 
pieces.  Let  us  go  at  the  matter  the  other  way  round.  If 
we  attribute  to  our  Lord  a  natural  birth,  we  come  at  once 
to  the  dilemma  of  having  to  admit  that  he  was  merely  an 
individual  human  person,  —  in  an  unsurpassed  relationship 
with  God,  it  is  true,  but  still  a  human  person.  That  doc 
trine  makes  Christ  historical,  some  one  to  go  back  to,  in 
stead  of  the  ever-present,  preexistent  Son  of  God  and  man 
kind.  I  will  go  as  far  as  to  assert  that  if  the  virgin  birth 
had  never  been  mentioned  in  the  Gospels,  it  would  never 
theless  inevitably  have  become  a  fundamental  doctrine  of 
the  Christian  faith.  Such  a  truth  is  too  vast,  too  far- 
reaching  to  have  been  neglected,  and  it  has  a  much  higher 
significance  than  the  mere  record  of  a  fact.  In  spite  of 


THE  KECTOR  HAS  MOEE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     63 

the  contradictions  of  science,  it  explains  as  nothing  else 
can  the  mystery  of  the  divinity  as  well  as  the  humanity  of 
the  Saviour." 

Eleanor  was  unconvinced.  She  felt,  as  she  listened,  the 
pressure  of  his  sincerity  and  force,  and  had  to  strive  to 
prevent  her  thoughts  from  becoming  confused. 

"  No,  Mr.  Hodder,  I  simply  can't  see  any  reason  for 
resorting  to  a  physical  miracle  in  order  to  explain  a  spir 
itual  mystery.  I  can  see  why  the  ancients  demanded  a 
sign  of  divinity  as  it  were.  But  for  us  it  has  ceased  even 
to  be  that.  It  can't  be  proved.  You  ask  me,  in  the  face 
of  overwhelming  evidence  against  it,  to  teach  my  children 
that  the  Incarnation  depends  on  it,  but  when  they  grow 
up  and  go  to  college  and  find  it  discredited  they  run  the 
risk  of  losing  everything  else  with  it.  And  for  my  part, 
I  fail  utterly  to  see  why,  if  with  God  all  things  are  possible, 
it  isn't  quite  as  believable,  as  we  gather  from  St.  Mark's 
Gospel,  that  he  incarnated  himself  in  one  naturally  born. 
If  you  reach  the  conclusion  that  Jesus  was  not  a  mere  in 
dividual  human  person,  you  reach  it  through  the  contempla 
tion  of  his  life  and  death." 

"  Then  it  isn't  the  physical  miracle  you  object  to,  espe 
cially?"  he  asked. 

"  It's  the  uselessness  of  it,  for  this  age,"  she  exclaimed. 
"I  think  clergymen  don't  understand  the  harm  it  is  doing 
in  concentrating  the  attention  on  such  a  vulnerable  and 
non-essential  point.  Those  of  us  who  are  striving  to  reor 
ganize  our  beliefs  and  make  them  tenable,  do  not  bother 
our  heads  about  miracles.  They  may  be  true,  or  may  not, 
or  some  of  them  may  be.  We  are  beginning  to  see  that 
the  virgin  birth  does  not  add  anything  to  Christ.  We  are 
beginning  to  see  that  perfection  and  individuality  are  not 
incompatible,  —  one  is  divine,  and  the  other  human.  And 
isn't  it  by  his  very  individuality  that  we  are  able  to  rec 
ognize  Jesus  to-day?" 

"  You  have  evidently  thought  and  read  a  great  deal," 
Hodder  said,  genuinely  surprised.  "  Why  didn't  you  come 
to  me  earlier  ?  " 

Eleanor  bit  her  lip.     He  smiled  a  little. 


64  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  1  think  I  can  answer  that  for  you,"  he  went  on ;  "  you 
believe  we  are  prejudiced,  —  I've  no  doubt  many  of  us  are. 
You  think  we  are  bound  to  stand  up  for  certain  dogmas, 
or  go  down,  and  that  our  minds  are  consequently  closed. 
I  am  not  blaming  you,"  he  added  quickly,  as  she  gave  a 
sign  of  protest,  "  but  I  assure  you  that  most  of  us,  so  far 
as  my  observation  has  gone,  are  honestly  trying  to  pro 
claim  the  truth  as  we  see  it." 

"  Insincerity  is  the  last  thing  I  should  have  accused  you 
of,  Mr.  Hodder,"  she  said  flushing.  "  As  I  told  you,  you 
seem  so  sure." 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  infallibility,  except  so  far  as  I  main 
tain  that  the  Church  is  the  guardian  of  certain  truths 
which  human  experience  has  verified.  Let  me  ask  you  if 
you  have  thought  out  the  difference  your  conception  of 
the  Incarnation, — the  lack  of  a  patently  divine  commission, 
as  it  were,  —  makes  in  the  doctrine  of  grace  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  she  answered,  "  a  little.  It  gives  me 
more  hope.  I  cannot  think  I  am  totally  depraved.  I  do 
not  believe  that  God  wishes  me  to  think  so.  And  while 
I  am  still  aware  of  the  distance  between  Christ's  perfection 
and  my  own  imperfection,  I  feel  that  the  possibility  is 
greater  of  lessening  that  distance.  It  gives  me  more  self- 
respect,  more  self-reliance.  George  Bridges  says  that  the 
logical  conclusion  of  that  old  doctrine  is  what  philosophers 
call  determinism  —  Calvinistic  predestination.  I  can't 
believe  in  that.  The  kind  of  grace  God  gives  me  is  the 
grace  to  help  myself  by  drawing  force  from  the  element  of 
him  in  my  soul.  He  gives  me  the  satisfaction  of  devel 
oping." 

"  Of  one  thing  I  am  assured,  Mrs.  Goodrich,"  Hodder 
replied,  "that  the  logical  result  of  independent  thinking 
is  anarchy.  Under  this  modern  tendency  toward  indi 
vidual  creeds,  the  Church  has  split  and  split  again  until, 
if  it  keeps  on,  we  shall  have  no  Church  at  all  to  carry  on 
the  work  of  our  Lord  on  earth.  History  proves  that  to 
take  anything  away  from  the  faith  is  to  atrophy,  to 
destroy  it.  The  answer  to  your  arguments  is  to  be  seen 
on  every  side,  atheism,  hypocrisy,  vice,  misery,  insane  and 


THE  KECTOE  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     65 

cruel  grasping  after  wealth.  There  is  only  one  remedy  I 
can  see,"  he  added,  inflexibly,  yet  with  a  touch  of  sadness, 
"believe." 

"  What  if  we  can't  believe  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  can."  He  spoke  with  unshaken  conviction. 
"  You  can  if  you  make  the  effort,  and  I  am  sure  you  will. 
My  experience  is  that  in  the  early  stages  of  spiritual  devel 
opment  we  are  impervious  to  certain  truths.  Will  you 
permit  rne  to  recommend  to  you  certain  books  dealing 
with  these  questions  in  a  modern  way  ?  " 

"  I  will  read  them  gladly,"  she  said,  and  rose. 

"And  then,  perhaps,  we  may  have  another  talk,"  he 
added,  looking  down  at  her.  "  Give  my  regards  to  your 
husband." 

Yet,  as  he  stood  in  the  window  looking  after  her  retreat 
ing  figure,  there  gradually  grew  upon  him  a  vague  and 
uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  had  not  been  satisfactory, 
and  this  was  curiously  coupled  with  the  realization  that 
the  visit  had  added  a  considerable  increment  to  his  already 
pronounced  liking  for  Eleanor  Goodrich.  She  was,  para 
doxically,  his  kind  of  a  person  —  such  was  the  form  the 
puzzle  took.  And  so  ably  had  she  presented  her  difficul 
ties  that,  at  one  point  of  the  discussion,  it  had  ironically 
occurred  to  him  to  refer  her  to  Gordon  Atterbury.  Mr. 
Atterbury's  faith  was  like  an  egg,  and  he  took  precious 
care  not  to  have  it  broken  or  chipped. 

Hodder  found  himself  smiling.  It  was  perhaps  inevi 
table  that  he  began  at  once  to  contrast  Mrs.  Goodrich  with 
other  feminine  parishioners  who  had  sought  him  out,  and 
who  had  surrendered  unconditionally.  They  had  evinced 
an  equally  disturbing  tendency,  —  a  willingness  to  be 
overborne.  For  had  he  not,  indeed,  overborne  them  ? 
He  could  not  help  suspecting  these  other  ladies  of  a  crav 
ing  for  the  luxury  of  the  confessional.  One  thing  was 
certain,  —  he  had  much  less  respect  for  them  than  for 
Eleanor  Goodrich.  .  .  . 

That  afternoon  he  sent  her  the  list  of  books.  But  the 
weeks  passed,  and  she  did  not  come  back.  Once,  when  he 
met  her  at  a  dinner  of  Mrs.  Preston's,  both  avoided  the 


66  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

subject  of  her  visit,  both  were  conscious  of  a  constraint, 
She  did  not  know  how  often,  unseen  by  her,  his  eyes  had 
sought  her  out  from  the  chancel.  For  she  continued  to 
come  to  church  as  frequently  as  before,  and  often  brought 
her  husband. 

II 

One  bright  and  boisterous  afternoon  in  March,  Hodder 
alighted  from  an  electric  car  amid  a  swirl  of  dust  and 
stood  gazing  for  a  moment  at  the  stone  gate-houses  of  that 
rus  in  urbe,  Waverley  Place,  and  at  the  gold  block-letters 
written  thereon,  "  No  Thoroughfare."  Against  those  gates 
and  their  contiguous  grill  the  rude  onward  rush  of  the 
city  had  beaten  in  vain,  and,  baffled,  had  swept  around 
their  serene  enclosure,  westward. 

Within,  a  silvery  sunlight  lit  up  the  grass  of  the  island 
running  down  the  middle,  and  in  the  beds  the  softening 
earth  had  already  been  broken  by  the  crocus  sheaves. 
The  bare  branches  of  the  trees  swayed  in  the  gusts.  As 
Hodder  penetrated  this  hallowed  precinct  he  recognized, 
on  either  hand,  the  residences  of  several  of  his  parishioners, 
each  in  its  ample  allotted  space:  Mrs.  Larrabbee's;  the 
Laureston  Greys' ;  Thurston  Gore's,  of  which  Mr.  Wallis 
Plimpton  was  now  the  master,  —  Mr.  Plimpton,  before 
whose  pertinacity  the  walls  of  Jericho  had  fallen;  and 
finally  the  queer,  twisted  Richardson  mansion  of  the 
Everett  Constables,  whither  he  was  bound,  with  its  re 
cessed  doorway  and  tiny  windows  peeping  out  from  under 
mediaeval  penthouses. 

He  was  ushered  into  a  library  where  the  shades  were 
already  drawn,  where  a  white- clothed  tea-table  was  set 
before  the  fire,  the  red  rays  dancing  on  the  silver  tea-kettle. 
On  the  centre-table  he  was  always  sure  to  find,  neatly  set 
in  a  rack,  the  books  about  which  the  world  was  talking, 
or  rather  would  soon  begin  to  talk;  and  beside  them  were 
ranged  magazines,  French,  English,  and  American,  Punch, 
the  Spectator,  the  Nation,  the  Revue  des  deux  Mondes. 
Like  the  able  general  she  was,  Mrs.  Constable  kept  her 


THE  RECTOK  HAS  MORE  FOOD  FOE  THOUGHT     67 

communications  open,  and  her  acquaintance  was  by  no 
means  confined  to  the  city  of  her  nativity.  And  if  a  celeb 
rity  were  passing  through,  it  were  pretty  safe,  if  in  doubt, 
to  address  him  in  her  care. 

Hodder  liked  and  admired  her,  but  somehow  she  gave 
him  the  impression  of  having  attained  her  ascendency  at 
a  price,  an  ascendency  which  had  apparently  been  gained 
by  impressing  upon  her  environment  a  new  note  —  literary, 
sesthetic,  cosmopolitan.  She  held  herself,  and  those  she 
carried  with  her,  abreast  of  the  times,  and  he  was  at  a  loss 
to  see  how  so  congenial  an  effort  could  have  left — de 
spite  her  sweetness  —  the  little  mark  of  hardness  he  dis 
cerned,  of  worldliness.  For  she  was  as  well  born  as  any 
woman  in  the  city,  and  her  husband  was  a  Constable. 
He  had  inherited,  so  the  rector  had  been  informed,  one  of 
those  modest  fortunes  that  were  deemed  affluence  in  the 
eighties.  His  keeping  abreast  of  the  times  was  the  enigma, 
and  Hodder  had  often  wondered  how  financial  genius  had 
contrived  to  house  itself  in  the  well-dressed,  gently  pom 
pous  little  man  whose  lack  of  force  seemed  at  times  so 
painfully  evident.  And  yet  he  was  rated  one  of  the  rich 
men  of  the  city,  and  his  name  Hodder  had  read  on  many 
boards  with  Mr.  Parr's  I 

A  person  more  versed  in  the  modern  world  of  affairs 
than  the  late  rector  of  Bremerton  would  not  have  been  so 
long  in  arriving  at  the  answer  to  this  riddle.  Hodder 
was  astute,  he  saw  into  people  more  than  they  suspected, 
but  he  was  not  sophisticated. 

He  stood  picturing,  now,  the  woman  in  answer  to  whose 
summons  he  had  come.  With  her  finely  chiselled  features, 
her  abundant  white  hair,  her  slim  figure  arid  erect  car 
riage  she  reminded  him  always  of  a  Vigee  Lebrun  por 
trait.  He  turned  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  behind  him. 

"  How  good  of  you  to  come,  Mr.  Hodder,  when  you  were 
so  busy,"  she  said,  taking  his  hand  as  she  seated  herself 
behind  the  tea-kettle.  "  I  wanted  the  chance  to  talk  to 
you,  and  it  seemed  the  best  way.  What  is  that  you 
have,  Soter's  book  ?  " 

"  I  picked  it  up  on  the  table,"  he  explained. 


68  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"Then  you  haven't  read  it?  You  ought  to.  As  a 
clergyman,  it  would  interest  you.  Religion  treated 
from  the  economic  side,  you  know,  the  effect  of  lack  of 
nutrition  on  character.  Very  unorthodox,  of  course." 

"  I  find  that  I  have  very  little  time  to  read,"  he  said. 
"  I  sometimes  take  a  book  along  in  the  cars." 

"  Your  profession  is  not  so  leisurely  as  it  once  was,  — 
I  often  think  it  such  a  pity.  But  you,  too,  are  paying  the 
penalty  of  complexity."  She  smiled  at  him  sympatheti 
cally.  "  How  is  Mr.  Parr  ?  I  haven't  seen  him  for  several 
weeks." 

"  He  seemed  well  when  I  saw  him  last,"  replied  Hodder. 

"  He's  a  wonderful  man  ;  the  amount  of  work  he  ac 
complishes  without  apparent  effort  is  stupendous."  Mrs. 
Constable  cast  what  seemed  a  tentative  glance  at  the  power 
ful  head,  and  handed  him  his  tea.  "  I  wanted  to  talk  to 
you  about  Gertrude,"  she  said. 

He  looked  unenlightened. 

"  About  my  daughter,  Mrs.  Warren.  She  lives  in  New 
York,  you  know —  on  Long  Island." 

Then  he  had  remembered  something  he  had  heard. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"She  met  you,  at  the  Fergusons',  just  for  a  moment, 
when  she  was  out  here  last  autumn.  What  really  nice 
and  simple  people  the  Fergusons  are,  with  all  their 
money  !  " 

"  Very  nice  indeed,"  he  agreed,  puzzled. 

"  I  have  been  sorry  for  them  in  the  past,"  she  went  on 
evenly.  "  They  had  rather  a  hard  time  —  perhaps  you 
may  have  heard.  Nobody  appreciated  them.  They  were 
entombed,  so  to  speak,  in  a  hideous  big  house  over  on  the 
South  Side,  which  fortunately  burned  down,  and  then 
they  bought  in  Park  Street,  and  took  a  pew  in  St.  John's. 
I  suppose  the  idea  of  that  huge  department  store  was 
rather  difficult  to  get  used  to.  But  I  made  up  my  mind 
it  was  nonsense  to  draw  the  line  at  department  stores,  — 
especially  since  Mr.  Ferguson's  was  such  a  useful  and  re 
markable  one,  so  I  went  across  and  called.  Mrs.  Ferguson 
was  so  grateful,  it  was  almost  pathetic.  And  she's  a  very 


THE  RECTOR  HAS  MORE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     69 

good  friend  —  she  came  here  every  day  when  Genevieve 
had  appendicitis." 

44  She's  a  good  woman,"  the  rector  said. 

"  And  Nan,  —  I  adore  Nan,  everybody  adores  Nan. 
She  reminds  me  of  one  of  those  exquisite,  blue-eyed  dolls 
her  father  imports.  Now  if  I  were  a  bachelor,  Mr. 
Hodder —  !  "  Mrs.  Constable  left  the  rest  to  his  imagi 
nation. 

He  smiled. 

"  I'm  afraid  Miss  Ferguson  has  her  own  ideas."  Run 
ning  through  Hodder's  mind,  a  troubled  current,  were 
certain  memories  connected  with  Mrs.  Warren.  Was  she 
the  divorced  daughter,  or  was  she  not  ? 

"  But  I  was  going  to  speak  to  you  about  Gertrude. 
She's  had  such  a  hard  time,  poor  dear,  my  heart  has  bled 
for  her."  There  was  a  barely  perceptible  tremor  in  Mrs. 
Constable's  voice.  "  All  that  publicity,  and  the  inevitable 
suffering  connected  with  it  !  And  no  one  can  know  the 
misery  she  went  through,  she  is  so  sensitive.  But  now, 
at  last,  she  has  a  chance  for  happiness  —  the  real  thing 
has  come." 

"  The  real  thing  !  "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes.  She's  going  to  marry  a  splendid  man,  Eldridge 
Sumner.  I  know  the  family  well.  They  have  always 
stood  for  public  spirit,  and  this  Mr.  Sumner,  although  he 
is  little  over  thirty,  was  chairman  of  that  Vice  Commission 
which  made  such  a  stir  in  New  York  a  year  ago.  He's  a 
lawyer,  with  a  fine  future,  and  they're  madly  in  love. 
And  Gertrude  realizes  now,  after  her  experience,  the  true 
values  in  life.  She  was  only  a  child  when  she  married 
Victor  Warren." 

"  But  Mr.  Warren,"  Hodder  managed  to  say,  "  is  still 
living." 

44 1  sometimes  wonder,  Mr.  Hodder,"  she  went  on  hur 
riedly,  44  whether  we  can  realize  how  different  the  world  is 
to-day  from  what  it  was  twenty  years  ago,  until  something 
of  this  kind  is  actually  brought  home  to  us.  I  shall  never 
forget  how  distressed,  how  overwhelmed  Mr.  Constable  and 
I  were  when  Gertrude  got  her  divorce.  I  know  that  they 


70  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

are  regarding  such  things  differently  in  the  East,  but  out 
here — !  We  never  dreamed  that  such  a  thing  could 
happen  to  us,  and  we  regarded  it  as  a  disgrace.  But 
gradually  "  —  she  hesitated,  and  looked  at  the  motionless 
clergyman  —  "  gradually  I  began  to  see  Gertrude's  point  of 
view,  to  understand  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  that  she 
had  been  too  young  to  comprehend  what  she  was  doing. 
Victor  Warren  had  been  ruined  by  money,  he  wasn't 
faithful  to  her,  but  an  extraordinary  thing  lias  happened 
in  his  case.  He's  married  again,  and  Gertrude  tells  me 
he's  absurdly  happy,  and  has  two  children." 

As  he  listened,  Hodder's  dominating  feeling  was  amaze 
ment  that  such  a  course  as  her  daughter  had  taken  should 
be  condoned  by  this  middle-aged  lady,  a  prominent  mem 
ber  of  his  congregation  and  the  wife  of  a  vestryman,  who 
had  been  nurtured  and  steeped  in  Christianity.  And  not 
only  that :  Mrs.  Constable  was  plainly  defending  a 
further  step,  which  in  his  opinion  involved  a  breach  of  the 
Seventh  Commandment  !  To  have  invaded  these  pre 
cincts,  the  muddy,  turbulent  river  of  individualism  had 
risen  higher  than  he  would  have  thought  possible.  .  .  . 

"  Wait !  "  she  implored,  checking  his  speech,  —  she  had 
been  watching  him  with  what  was  plainly  anxiety, — 
"  don't  say  anything  yet.  I  have  a  letter  here  which  she 
wrote  me  —  at  the  time.  I  kept  it.  Let  me  read  a  part 
of  it  to  you,  that  you  may  understand  more  fully  the 
tragedy  of  it." 

Mrs.  Constable  thrust  her  hand  into  her  lap  and  drew 
forth  a  thickly  covered  sheet. 

"  It  was  written  just  after  she  left  him  —  it  is  an  an 
swer  to  my  protest,"  she  explained,  and  began  to  read  : 
" '  I  know  I  promised  to  love  Victor,  mother,  but  how  can 
one  promise  to  do  a  thing  over  which  one  has  no  control  ? 
I  loved  him  after  he  stopped  loving  me.  He  wasn't  a  bit 
suited  to  me  —  I  see  that  now  —  he  was  attracted  by  the 
outside  of  me,  and  I  never  knew  what  he  was  like  until  I 
married  him.  His  character  seemed  to  change  com 
pletely  ;  he  grew  morose  and  quick-tempered  and  secre 
tive,  and  nothing  I  did  pleased  him.  We  led  a  cat»and- 


THE  KECTOK  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     71 

dog  life.  I  never  let  you  know  —  and  yet  I  see  now  we 
might  have  got  along  in  any  other  relationship.  We  were 
very  friendly  when  we  parted,  and  I'm  not  a  bit  jealous 
because  he  cares  for  another  woman  who  I  can  see  is  much 
better  suited  to  him. 

" 4 1  can't  honestly  regret  leaving  him,  and  I'm  not 
conscious  of  having  done  anything  wrong.  I  don't  want 
to  shock  you,  and  I  know  how  terribly  you  and  father 
must  leel,  but  I  can  see  now,  somehow,  that  I  had  to  go 
through  this  experience,  terrible  as  it  was,  to  find  myself. 
If  it  were  thirty  years  ago,  before  people  began  to  be  liberal 
in  such  matters,  I  shudder  to  think  what  might  have  be 
come  of  me.  I  should  now  be  one  of  those  terrible  women 
between  fifty  and  sixty  who  have  tried  one  frivolity  and 
excess  after  another  —  but  I'm  not  coming  to  that  !  And 
my  friends  have  really  been  awfully  kind,  and  supported 
me — even  Victor's  family.  Don't,  don't  think  that  I'm 
not  respectable  !  I  know  how  you  look  at  such  things.' ' 
Mrs.  Constable  closed  the  letter  abruptly. 

"  I  did  look  at  such  things  in  that  way,"  she  added, 
"but  I've  changed.  That  letter  helped  to  change  me,  and 
the  fact  that  it  was  Gertrude  who  had  been  through  this. 
If  you  only  knew  Gertrude,  Mr.  Hodder,  you  couldn't 
possibly  think  of  her  as  anything  but  sweet  and  pure." 

Although  the  extent  of  Hodder's  acquaintance  with 
Mrs.  Warren  had  been  but  five  minutes,  the  letter  had 
surprisingly  retouched  to  something  like  brilliancy  her 
faded  portrait,  the  glow  in  her  cheeks,  the  iris  blue  in  her 
eyes.  He  recalled  the  little  shock  he  had  experienced 
when  told  that  she  was  divorced,  for  her  appeal  had  lain 
in  her  very  freshness,  her  frank  and  confiding  manner. 
She  was  one  of  those  women  who  seem  to  say,  "  Here  I 
am,  you  can't  but  like  me."  And  he  had  responded  — 
he  remembered  that  —  he  had  liked  her.  And  now  her 
letter,  despite  his  resistance,  had  made  its  appeal,  so  gen 
uinely  human  was  it,  so  honest,  although  it  expressed  a 
philosophy  he  abhorred. 

Mrs.  Constable  was  watching  him  mutely,  striving  to 
read  in  his  grave  eyes  the  effect  of  her  pleadings. 


72  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  You  are  telling  me  this,  Mrs.  Constable  —  why  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  Because  I  wished  you  to  know  the  exact  situation  be 
fore  I  asked  you,  as  a  great  favour  to  me,  to  Mr.  Constable, 
to  —  to  marry  her  in  St.  John's.  Of  course,"  she  went  on, 
controlling  her  rising  agitation,  and  anticipating  a  sign  of 
protest,  "  we  shouldn't  expect  to  have  any  people,  —  and 
Gertrude  wasn't  married  in  St.  John's  before  ;  that  wed 
ding  was  at  Passumset  —  our  seashore  place.  Oh,  Mr. 
Hodder,  before  you  answer,  think  of  our  feelings,  Mr. 
Constable's  and  mine  !  If  you  could  see  Mr.  Constable, 
you  would  know  how  he  suffers —  this  thing  has  upset  him 
more  than  the  divorce.  His  family  have  such  pride.  I  am 
so  worried  about  him,  and  he  doesn't  eat  anything  and 
looks  so  haggard.  I  told  him  I  would  see  you  and  explain 
and  that  seemed  to  comfort  him  a  little.  She  is,  after  all, 
our  child,  and  we  don't  want  to  feel,  so  far  as  our  church 
is  concerned,  that  she  is  an  Ishmaelite ;  we  don't  want  to 
have  the  spectacle  of  her  having  to  go  around,  outside,  to 
find  a  clergyman  —  that  would  be  too  dreadful  I  I  know 
how  strict,  how  unflinching  you  are,  and  I  admire  you  for 
it.  But  this  is  a  special  case." 

She  paused,  breathing  deeply,  and  Hodder  gazed  at  her 
with  pity.  What  he  felt  was  more  than  pity  ;  he  was  ex 
periencing,  indeed,  but  with  a  deeper  emotion,  something 
of  that  same  confusion  of  values  into  which  Eleanor 
Goodrich's  visit  had  thrown  him.  At  the  same  time  it 
had  not  escaped  his  logical  mind  that  Mrs.  Constable  had 
made  her  final  plea  on  the  score  of  respectability. 

"  It  gives  me  great  pain  to  have  to  refuse  you,"  he  said 
gently. 

"  Oh,  don't,"  she  said  sharply,  "  don't  say  that !  I  can't 
have  made  the  case  clear.  You  are  too  big,  too  compre 
hending,  Mr.  Hodder,  to  have  a  hard-and-fast  rule.  There 
must  be  times — extenuating  circumstances  — and  I  believe 
the  canons  make  it  optional  for  a  clergyman  to  marry  the 
innocent  person." 

"  Yes,  it  is  optional,  but  I  do  not  believe  it  should  be. 
The  question  is  left  to  the  clergyman's  conscience.  Ac- 


THE  EECTOR  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     73 

cording  to  my  view,  Mrs.  Constable,  the  Church,  as  the 
agent  of  God,  effects  an  indissoluble  bond.  And  much  as 
I  should  like  to  do  anything  in  my  power  for  you  and  Mr. 
Constable,  you  have  asked  the  impossible,  —  believing  as 
I  do,  there  can  be  no  special  case,  no  extenuating  circum 
stance.  And  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  it  is  because  people 
to-day  are  losing  their  beliefs  that  we  have  this  lenient 
attitude  toward  the  sacred  things.  If  they  still  held  the 
conviction  that  marriage  is  of  God,  they  would  labour  to 
make  it  a  success,  instead  of  flying  apart  at  the  first  sign 
of  what  they  choose  to  call  incompatibility." 

"  But  surely,"  she  said,  "  we  ought  not  to  be  punished 
for  our  mistakes  !  I  cannot  believe  that  Christ  himself 
intended  that  his  religion  should  be  so  inelastic,  so  hard 
and  fast,  so  cruel  as  you  imply.  Surely  there  is  enough 
unhappiness  without  making  more.  You  speak  of  incom 
patibility —  but  is  it  in  all  cases  such  an  insignificant  mat 
ter  ?  We  are  beginning  to  realize  in  these  days  something 
of  the  effects  of  character  on  character,  —  deteriorating 
effects,  in  many  instances.  With  certain  persons  we  are 
lifted  up,  inspired  to  face  the  battle  of  life  and  overcome 
its  difficulties.  I  have  known  fine  men  and  women  whose 
lives  have  been  stultified  or  ruined  because  they  were 
badly  mated.  And  I  cannot  see  that  the  character  of  my 
own  daughter  has  deteriorated  because  she  has  got  a  di 
vorce  from  a  man  with  whom  she  was  profoundly  out  of 
sympathy  —  of  harmony.  On  the  contrary,  she  seems 
more  of  a  person  than  she  was ;  she  has  clearer,  saner  views 
of  life  ;  she  has  made  her  mistake  and  profited  by  it. 
Her  views  changed  —  Victor  Warren's  did  not.  She  be 
gan  to  realize  that  some  other  woman  might  have  an 
influence  over  his  life  —  she  had  none,  simply  because  he 
did  not  love  her.  And  love  is  not  a  thing  we  can  compel." 

u  You  are  making  it  very  hard  for  me,  Mrs.  Constable," 
he  said.  "  You  are  now  advocating  an  individualism  with 
which  the  Church  can  have  no  sympathy.  Christianity 
teaches  us  that  life  is  probationary,  and  if  we  seek  to  avoid 
the  trials  sent  us,  instead  of  overcoming  them,  we  find 
ourselves  farther  than  ever  from  any  solution.  We  have 


74  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

to  stand  by  our  mistakes.  If  marriage  is  to  be  a  mere 
trial  of  compatibility,  why  go  through  a  ceremony  than 
which  there  is  none  more  binding  in  human  and  divine 
institutions?  One  either  believes  in  it,  or  one  does  not. 
And,  if  belief  be  lacking,  the  state  provides  for  the  legali 
zation  of  marriages." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  If  persons  wish  to  be  married  in  church  in  these 
days  merely  because  it  is  respectable,  if  such  be  their  only 
reason,  they  are  committing  a  great  wrong.  They  are  tak 
ing  an  oath  before  God  with  reservations,  knowing  that 
public  opinion  will  release  them  if  the  marriage  does  not 
fulfil  their  expectations." 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  at  him  with  parted  lips,  and 
pressing  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes  began  silently  to 
cry.  The  sudden  spectacle,  in  this  condition,  of  a  self- 
controlled  woman  of  the  world  was  infinitely  distressing 
to  Hodder,  whose  sympathies  were  even  more  sensitive 
than  (in  her  attempt  to  play  upon  them)  she  had  sus 
pected.  .  .  .  She  was  aware  that  he  had  got  to  his  feet, 
and  was  standing  beside  her,  speaking  with  an  oddly  pene 
trating  tenderness. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  be  harsh,"  he  said,  "  and  it  is  not 
that  I  do  not  understand  how  you  feel.  You  have  made 
my  duty  peculiarly  difficult." 

She  raised  up  to  him  a  face  from  which  the  mask  had 
fallen,  from  which  the  illusory  look  of  youth  had  fled. 
He  turned  away.  .  .  .  And  presently  she  began  to  speak 
again,  in  disconnected  sentences. 

"I  so  want  her  to  be  happy  —  I  cannot  think,  I  will  not 
think  that  she  has  wrecked  her  life  —  it  would  be  too  un 
just,  too  cruel.  You  cannot  know  what  it  is  to  be  a 
woman  !  " 

Before  this  cry  he  was  silent. 

"  I  don't  ask  anything  of  God  except  that  she  shall  have 
a  chance,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  he  is  making  the  world 
better  —  less  harsh  for  women." 

He  did  not  reply.  And  presently  she  looked  up  at  him 
again,  steadfastly  now,  searchingly.  The  barriers  of  the 


THE  RECTOR  HAS  MORE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT    75 

conventions  were  down,  she  had  cast  her  pride  to  the 
winds.     He  seemed  to  read  in  her  a  certain  relief. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  something,  Mr.  Hodder,  which 
you  may  think  strange,  but  I  have  a  reason  for  saying  it. 
You  are  still  a  young  man,  and  I  feel  instinctively  that 
you  have  an  unusual  career  before  you.  You  interested 
me  the  first  time  you  stepped  into  the  pulpit  of  St.  John's 

—  and  it  will  do  me  good  to  talk  to  you,  this  once,  frankly. 
You  have  reiterated  to-day,  in  no  uncertain  terms,  doctrines 
which  I  once  believed,  which  I  was  brought  up  to  think 
infallible.     But  I  have  lived  since  then,  and  life  itself  has 
made  me  doubt  them. 

"  I  recognize  in  you  a  humanity,  a  sympathy  and  breadth 
which  you  are  yourself  probably  not  aware  of,  all  of  which 
is  greater  than  the  rule  which  you  so  confidently  apply  to 
fit  all  cases.  It  seems  to  me  that  Christ  did  not  intend  us 
to  have  such  rules.  He  went  beyond  them,  into  the  spirit. 

"  Under  the  conditions  of  society  —  of  civilization  to-day, 
most  marriages  are  merely  a  matter  of  chance.  Even  judg 
ment  cannot  foresee  the  development  of  character  brought 
about  by  circumstances,  by  environment.  And  in  many 
marriages  I  have  known  about  intimately  both  the  man 
and  the  woman  have  missed  the  most  precious  thing 
that  life  can  give  —  something  I  cannot  but  think  —  God 
intends  us  to  have.  You  see,"  —  she  smiled  at  him  sadly 

—  "I  am  still  a  little  of  an  idealist. 

"  I  missed  —  the  thing  I  am  talking  about,  and  it  has 
been  the  great  sorrow  of  my  life  —  not  only  on  my  account, 
but  on  my  husband's.  And  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I 
am  telling  you  the  truth  when  I  say  I  should  have  been 
content  to  have  lived  in  a  log  cabin  if  —  if  the  gift  had 
been  mine.  Not  all  the  money  in  the  world,  nor  the  in 
tellect,  nor  the  philanthropy  —  the  so-called  interests  of 
life,  will  satisfy  me  for  its  denial.  I  am  a  disappointed 
woman,  I  sometimes  think  a  bitter  woman.  I  can't  believe 
that  life  is  meant  to  be  so.  Those  energies  have  gone 
into  ambition  which  should  have  been  absorbed  by  —  by 
something  more  worth  while. 

"  And  I  can  see  so  plainly  now  that  my  husband  would 


76  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

have  been  far,  far  happier  with  another  kind  of  woman. 
I  drew  him  away  from  the  only  work  he  ever  enjoyed  — 
his  painting.  I  do  not  say  he  ever  could  have  been  a  great 
artist,  but  he  had  a  little  of  the  divine  spark,  in  his  en 
thusiasm  at  least  —  in  his  assiduity.  I  shall  never  forget 
our  first  trip  abroad,  after  we  were  married  —  he  was  like 
a  boy  in  the  galleries,  in  the  studios.  I  could  not  under 
stand  it  then.  I  had  no  real  sympathy  with  art,  but  I 
tried  to  make  sacrifices,  what  I  thought  were  Christian 
sacrifices.  The  motive  power  was  lacking,  and  no  matter 
how  hard  I  tried,  I  was  only  half-hearted,  and  he  realized 
it  instinctively  —  no  amount  of  feigning  could  deceive 
him.  Something  deep  in  me,  which  was  a  part  of  my 
nature,  was  antagonistic,  stultifying  to  the  essentials  of 
his  own  being.  Of  course  neither  of  us  saw  that  then, 
but  the  results  were  not  long  in  developing.  To  him,  art 
was  a  sacred  thing,  and  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  regard 
it  with  equal  seriousness.  He  drew  into  himself,  —  closed 
up,  as  it  were,  —  no  longer  discussed  it.  I  was  hurt.  And 
when  we  came  home  he  kept  on  in  business  —  he  still  had 
his  father's  affairs  to  look  after  —  but  he  had  a  little  work 
room  at  the  top  of  the  house  where  he  used  to  go  in  the 
afternoon.  .  .  . 

"  It  was  a  question  which  one  of  us  should  be  warped, 
—  which  personality  should  be  annihilated,  so  to  speak, 
and  I  was  the  stronger.  And  as  I  look  back,  Mr.  Hodder, 
what  occurred  seems  to  me  absolutely  inevitable,  given 
the  ingredients,  as  inevitable  as  a  chemical  process.  We 
were  both  striving  against  each  other,  and  I  won  —  at  a 
tremendous  cost.  The  conflict,  one  might  say,  was  sub 
conscious,  instinctive  rather  than  deliberate.  My  atti 
tude  forced  him  back  into  business,  although  we  had 
enough  to  live  on  very  comfortably,  and  then  the  scale 
of  life  began  to  increase,  luxuries  formerly  unthought  of 
seemed  to  become  necessities.  And  while  it  was  still  afar 
off  1  saw  a  great  wave  rolling  toward  us,  the  wave  of  that 
new  prosperity  which  threatened  to  submerge  us,  and  I 
seized  the  buoy  fate  had  placed  in  our  hands,  —  or  rather, 
by  suggestion,  I  induced  my  husband  to  seize  it, — his  name. 


THE  RECTOR  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOR  THOUGHT     77 

/ 

"  I  recognized  the  genius,  the  future  of  Eldon  Parr  at  a 
time  when  he  was  not  yet  independent  and  supreme,  when 
association  with  a  Constable"  meant  much  to  him.  Mr. 
Parr  made  us,  as  the  saying  goes.  Needless  to  say,  mone} 
has  not  brought  happiness,  but  a  host  of  hard,  false  ambi 
tions  which  culminated  in  Gertrude's  marriage  with  Victor 
Warren.  I  set  my  heart  on  the  match,  helped  it  in  every 
way,  and  until  now  nothing  but  sorrow  has  come  of  it. 
But  my  point  is  this,- — I  see  so  clearly,  now  that  it  is  too 
late,  that  two  excellent  persons  may  demoralize  each  other 
if  they  are  ill-mated.  It  may  be  possible  that  I  had  the 
germs  of  false  ambition  in  me  when  I  was  a  girl,  yet  I 
was  conscious  only  of  the  ideal  which  is  in  most  women's 
hearts.  .  .  . 

"  You  must  not  think  that  I  have  laid  my  soul  bare  in 
the  hope  of  changing  your  mind  in  regard  to  Gertrude.  I 
recognize  clearly,  now,  that  that  is  impossible.  Oh,  I  know 
you  do  not  so  misjudge  me,"  she  added,  reading  his  quick 
protest  in  his  face. 

44  Indeed,  I  cannot  analyze  my  reasons  for  telling  you 
something  of  which  I  have  never  spoken  to  any  one  else." 
Mrs.  Constable  regarded  him  fixedly.  ut  You  are  the  strong 
est  reason.  You  have  somehow  drawn  it  out  of  me.  .  .  . 
And  I  suppose  I  wish  some  one  to  profit  by  it.  You  can, 
Mr.  Hodder,  —  I  feel  sure  of  that.  You  may  insist  now 
that  my  argument  against  your  present  conviction  of  the 
indissolubility  of  marriage  is  mere  individualism,  but  I 
want  you  to  think  of  what  I  have  told  you,  not  to  answer 
me  now.  I  know  your  argument  by  heart,  that  Christian 
character  develops  by  submission,  by  suffering,  that  it  is 
the  woman's  place  to  submit,  to  efface  herself.  But  the 
root  of  the  matter  goes  deeper  than  that.  I  am  far  from 
deploring  sacrifice,  yet  common-sense  tells  us  that  our 
sacrifice  should  be  guided  by  judgment,  that  foolish  sac 
rifices  are  worse  than  useless.  And  there  are  times  when 
the  very  limitations  of  our  individuality  —  necessary  limi 
tations  for  us  —  prevent  our  sacrifices  from  counting. 

"I  was  wrong,  I  grant  you,  grievously  wrong  in  the 
course  I  took,  even  though  it  were  not  consciously  delib- 


78  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

erate.  But  if  my  husband  had  been  an  artist  I  should 
always  have  remained  separated  from  his  real  life  by  a 
limitation  I  had  no  power  to  remove.  The  more  I 
tried,  the  more  apparent  my  lack  of  insight  became  to 
him,  the  more  irritated  he  grew.  I  studied  his  sketches, 
I  studied  masterpieces,  but  it  was  all  hopeless.  The  thing 
wasn't  in  me,  and  he  knew  it  wasn't.  Every  remark  made 
him  quiver. 

44  The  Church,  I  think,  will  grow  more  liberal,  must  grow 
more  liberal,  if  it  wishes  to  keep  in  touch  with  people  in 
an  age  when  they  are  thinking  out  these  questions  for 
themselves.  The  law  cannot  fit  all  cases,  I  am  sure  the 
Gospel  can.  And  sometimes  women  have  an  instinct,  a 
kind  of  second  sight  into  persons,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  cannot 
explain  why  I  feel  that  you  have  in  you  elements  of  growth 
which  will  eventually  bring  you  more  into  sympathy  with 
the  point  of  view  I  have  set  forth,  but  I  do  feel  it." 

Plodder  did  not  attempt  to  refute  her  —  she  had,  indeed, 
made  discussion  impossible.  She  knew  his  arguments,  as 
she  had  declared,  and  he  had  the  intelligence  to  realize 
that  a  repetition  of  them,  on  his  part,  would  be  useless. 
She  brought  home  to  him,  as  never  before,  a  sense  of  the 
anomalistic  position  of  the  Church  in  these  modern  days, 
of  its  appallingly  lessened  weight  even  with  its  own  mem 
bers.  As  a  successor  of  the  Apostles,  he  had  no  power 
over  this  woman,  or  very  little ;  he  could  neither  rebuke 
her,  nor  sentence  her  to  penance.  She  recognized  his 
authority  to  marry  her  daughter,  to  baptize  her  daughter's 
children,  but  not  to  interfere  in  any  way  with  her  spiritual 
life.  It  was  as  a  personality  he  had  moved  her  —  a  per 
sonality  apparently  not  in  harmony  with  his  doctrine. 
Women  had  hinted  at  this  before.  And  while  Mrs.  Con 
stable  had  not,  as  she  perceived,  shaken  his  conviction, 
the  very  vividness  and  unexpectedness  of  a  confession 
from  her  had  stirred  him  to  the  marrow,  had  opened 
doors,  perforce,  which  he  himself  had  marked  forbidden, 
and  given  him  a  glimpse  beyond  before  he  could  lower  his 
eyes.  Was  there,  after  all,  something  in  him  that  re 
sponded  in  spite  of  himself  ?  .  .  . 


THE  KECTOE,  HAS  MOKE  FOOD  FOE  THOUGHT     79 

He  sat  gazing  at  her,  his  head  bent,  his  strong  hands 
on  the  arms  of  the  chair. 

"We  never  can  foresee  how  we  may  change,"  he  an 
swered,  a  light  in  his  eyes  that  was  like  a  smile,  yet  hav 
ing  no  suggestion  of  levity.  And  his  voice  —  despite  his 
disagreement  —  maintained  the  quality  of  his  sympathy. 
Neither  felt  the  oddity,  then,  of  the  absence  of  a  jarring 
note.  "  You  may  be  sure,  at  least,  of  my  confidence,  and 
of  my  gratitude  for  what  you  have  told  me." 

His  tone  belied  the  formality  of  his  speech.  Mrs.  Con 
stable  returned  his  gaze  in  silence,  and  before  words  came 
again  to  either,  a  step  sounded  on  the  threshold  and  Mr. 
Constable  entered. 

Hodder  looked  at  him  with  a  new  vision.  His  face  was 
indeed  lined  and  worn,  and  dark  circles  were  under  his 
eyes.  But  at  Mrs.  Constable's  "  Here's  Mr.  Hodder, 
dear,"  he  came  forward  briskly  to  welcome  the  clergyman. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said  cordially.  "We  don't  see 
you  very  often." 

"  I  have  been  telling  Mr.  Hodder  that  modern  rectors 
of  big  parishes  have  far  too  many  duties,"  said  his  wife. 

And  after  a  few  minutes  of  desultory  conversation,  the 
rector  left. 


CHAPTER   VI 

"  WATCHMAN,    WHAT    OF    THE    NIGHT  ?  " 

IT  was  one  of  those  moist  nights  of  spring  when  the  ail 
is  pungent  with  the  odour  of  the  softened  earth,  and  the 
gentle  breaths  that  stirred  the  curtains  in  Mr.  Parr's  big 
dining-room  wafted,  from  the  garden,  the  perfumes  of  a 
revived  creation, — delicious,  hothouse  smells.  At  inter 
vals,  showers  might  be  heard  pattering  on  the  walk  out 
side.  The  rector  of  St.  John's  was  dining  with  his  great 
parishioner. 

Here  indeed  were  a  subject  for  some  modern  master,  a 
chance  to  picture  for  generations  to  come  an  aspect  of  a 
mighty  age,  an  age  that  may  some  day  be  deemed  but  a 
grotesque  and  anomalistic  survival  of  a  more  ancient 
logic  ;  a  gargoyle  carved  out  of  chaos,  that  bears  on  its 
features  a  resemblance  to  the  past  and  the  future. 

Our  scene  might  almost  be  mediaeval  with  its  encircling 
gloom,  through  which  the  heavy  tapestries  and  shadowy 
corners  of  the  huge  apartment  may  be  dimly  made  out. 
In  the  center,  the  soft  red  glow  of  the  candles,  the  gleam 
ing  silver,  the  shining  cloth,  the  Church  on  one  side — and 
what  on  the  other?  No  name  given  it  now,  no  royal 
name,  but  still  Power.  The  two  are  still  in  apposition, 
not  yet  in  opposition,  but  the  discerning  may  perchance 
read  a  prophecy  in  the  salient  features  of  the  priest. 

The  Man  of  Power  of  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth 
century  demands  a  subtler  analysis,  presents  an  enigma 
to  which  the  immortal  portraits  of  forgotten  Medicis  and 
Capets  give  no  clew.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  a  Lorenzo  or  a 
Grand  Louis  in  a  tightly-buttoned  frock  coat  !  There 
must  be  some  logical  connection  between  the  habit  and 

80 


"WATCHMAN,   WHAT   OF   THE   NIGHT?"        81 

the  age,  since  crimson  velvet  and  gold  brocade  would  have 
made  Eldon  Parr  merely  ridiculous. 

He  is  by  no  means  ridiculous,  yet  take  him  out  of  the 
setting  and  put  him  in  the  street,  and  you  might  pass  him  a 
dozen  times  without  noticing  him.  Nature,  and  perhaps 
unconscious  art,  have  provided  him  with  a  protective  ex 
terior  ;  he  is  the  colour  of  his  jungle.  After  he  has  crippled 
you — if  you  survive — you  will  never  forget  him.  You 
will  remember  his  eye, — which  can  be  unsheathed  like  a 
rapier  ;  you  will  recall  his  lips  as  the  expression  of  a  relent 
less  negative.  The  significance  of  the  slight  bridge  on  the 
narrow  nose  is  less  easy  to  define.  He  is  neither  tall  nor 
short ;  his  face  is  clean-shaven,  save  for  scanty,  unobtrusive 
reddish  tufts  high  on  the  cheeks  ;  his  hair  is  thin. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  our  rector  did 
not  see  him  in  his  jungle,  and  perhaps  in  the  traditional 
nobility  of  the  lion  there  is  a  certain  truth.  An  interest 
ing  biography  of  some  of  the  powerful  of  this  earth  might 
be  written  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  confessor  or  the 
physician,  who  find  something  to  love,  something  to  pity, 
and  nothing  to  fear  —  thus  reversing  the  sentiments  of 
the  public. 

Yet  the  friendship  between  John  Hodder  and  Eldon 
Parr  defied  any  definite  analysis  on  the  rector's  part,  and 
was  perhaps  the  strangest  and  most  disquieting  element 
that  had  as  yet  come  into  Hodder's  life.  The  nature  of  his 
intimacy  with  the  banker,  if  intimacy  it  might  be  called, 
might  have  surprised  his  other  parishioners  if  they  could 
have  been  hidden  spectators  of  one  of  these  dinners. 
There  were  long  silences  when  the  medium  of  communi 
cation,  tenuous  at  best,  seemed  to  snap,  and  the  two  sat 
gazing  at  each  other  as  from  mountain  peaks  across  im 
passable  valleys.  With  all  the  will  in  the  world,  their 
souls  lost  touch,  though  the  sense  in  the  clergyman  of  the 
other's  vague  yearning  for  human  companionship  was 
never  absent.  It  was  this  yearning  that  attracted  Hod 
der,  who  found  in  it  a  deep  pathos. 

After  one  of  these  intervals  of  silence,  Eldon  Pan 
looked  up  from  his  claret. 


82  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Hodder,  on  the  stand  you  took  in 
regard  to  Constable's  daughter,"  he  said. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  it  was  known,"  answered  the  rector, 
in  surprise. 

"  Constable  told  me.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  he 
doesn't  sympathize  with  his  wife  in  her  attitude  on  this 
matter.  It's  pulled  him  down,  —  you've  noticed  that  he 
looks  badly  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  rector.  He  did  not  care  to  discuss  the 
affair  ;  he  had  hoped  it  would  not  become  known  ;  and 
he  shunned  the  congratulations  of  Gordon  Atterbury, 
which  in  such  case  would  be  inevitable.  And  in  spite  of 
the  conviction  that  he  had  done  his  duty,  the  memory  of 
his  talk  with  Mrs.  Constable  never  failed  to  make  him 
uncomfortable. 

Exasperation  crept  into  Mr.  Parr's  voice. 

"  I  can't  think  what's  got  into  women  in  these  times  — 
at  Mrs.  Constable's  age  they  ought  to  know  better.  Noth 
ing  restrains  them.  They  have  reached  a  point  where 
they  don't  even  respect  the  Church.  And  when  that 
happens,  it  is  serious  indeed.  The  Church  is  the  governor 
on  our  social  engine,  and  it  is  supposed  to  impose  a  re 
straint  upon  the  lawless." 

Hodder  could  not  refrain  from  smiling  a  little  at  the 
banker's  conception. 

"Doesn't  that  reduce  the  Church  somewhere  to  the 
level  of  the  police  force  ?"  he  asked. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  whose  feelings  seemed 
to  be  rising.  "  I  am  sorry  for  Constable.  He  feels  the 
shame  of  this  thing  keenly,  and  he  ought  to  go  away  for 
a  while  to  one  of  these  quiet  resorts.  I  offered  him  my 
car.  Sometimes  I  think  that  women  have  no  morals.  At 
any  rate,  this  modern  notion  of  giving  them  their  liberty 
is  sheer  folly.  Look  what  they  have  done  with  it  !  In 
stead  of  remaining  at  home,  where  they  belong,  they  are 
going  out  into  the  world  and  turning  it  topsy-turvy. 
And  if  a  man  doesn't  let  them  have  a  free  hand,  they  get 
a  divorce  and  marry  some  idiot  who  will." 

Mr.  Parr  pushed  back  his  chair  and  rose  abruptly,  start 


'THE    TWO    SAT    GAZING    AT     EACH    OTHER    AS    FROM    MOUNTAIN    PEAKS 
ACROSS  IMPASSABLE  VALLEYS." 


"WATCHMAN,   WHAT   OF   THE   NIGHT?"       83 

ing  for  the  door.  The  rector  followed  him,  forcibly  struck 
by  the  unusual  bitterness  in  his  tone. 

"  If  I  have  spoken  strongly,  it  is  because  I  feel  strongly," 
he  said  in  a  strange,  thickened  voice.  "  Hodder,  how 
would  you  like  to  live  in  this  house  —  alone  ?  " 

The  rector  looked  down  upon  him  with  keen,  compre 
hending  eyes,  and  saw  Eldon  Parr  as  he  only,  of  all  men, 
had  seen  him.  For  he  himself  did  not  understand  his  own 
strange  power  of  drawing  forth  the  spirit  from  its  shell,  of 
compelling  the  inner,  suffering  thing  to  reveal  itself. 

"  This  poison,"  Eldon  Parr  went  on  unevenly,  "  has 
eaten  into  my  own  family.  My  daughter,  who  might  have 
been  a  comfort  and  a  companion,  since  she  chose  not  to 
marry,  was  carried  away  by  it,  and  thought  it  incumbent 
upon  her  to  have  a  career  of  her  own.  And  now  I  have  a 
choice  of  thirty  rooms,  and  not  a  soul  to  share  them  with. 
Sometimes,  at  night,  I  make  up  my  mind  to  sell  this  house. 
But  I  can't  do  it  —  something  holds  me  back,  hope,  super 
stition,  or  whatever  you've  a  mind  to  call  it.  You've 
never  seen  all  of  the  house,  have  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  rector  slowly  shook  his  head,  and  the  movement 
might  have  been  one  that  he  would  have  used  in  acqui 
escence  to  the  odd  whim  of  a  child.  Mr.  Parr  led  the 
way  up  the  wide  staircase  to  the  corridor  above,  traversing 
chamber  after  chamber,  turning  on  the  lights. 

"  These  were  my  wife's  rooms,"  he  said,  "  they  are  just 
as  she  left  them.  And  these  my  daughter  Alison's,  when 
she  chooses  to  pay  me  a  visit.  I  didn't  realize  that  I 
should  have  to  spend  the  last  years  of  my  life  alone.  And 
I  meant,  when  I  gave  my  wife  a  house,  to  have  it  the  best 
in  the  city.  I  spared  nothing  on  it,  as  you  see,  neither 
care  nor  money.  I  had  the  best  architect  I  could  find,  and 
used  the  best  material.  And  what  good  is  it  to  me  ?  Only 
a  reminder  —  of  what  might  have  been.  But  I've  got  a 
boy,  Hodder,  —  I  don't  know  whether  I've  ever  spoken  of 
him  to  you  —  Preston.  He  8  gone  away,  too.  But  I've 
always  had  the  hope  that  he  might  come  back  and  get 
decently  married,  and  live  here.  That's  why  I  stay.  I'll 
show  you  his  picture." 


84  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

They  climbed  to  the  third  floor,  and  while  Mr.  Parr  was 
searching  for  the  electric  switch,  a  lightning  flash  broke 
over  the  forests  of  the  park,  prematurely  revealing  the 
room.  It  was  a  boy's  room,  hung  with  photographs  of 
school  and  college  crews  and  teams  and  groups  of  intimates, 
with  deep  window  seats,  and  draped  pennons  of  Harvard 
University  over  the  fireplace.  Eldon  Parr  turned  to  one 
of  the  groups  on  the  wall,  the  earliest  taken  at  school. 

"  There  he  is,"  he  said,  pointing  out  a  sunny  little  face 
at  the  bottom,  a  boy  of  twelve,  bareheaded,  with  short, 
crisping  yellow  hair,  smiling  lips  and  laughing  eyes.  "  And 
here  he  is  again,"  indicating  another  group.  Thus  he 
traced  him  through  succeeding  years  until  they  came  to 
those  of  college. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  the  rector.  "  I  think  I  can  pick 
him  out  now." 

"  Yes,  that's  Preston,"  said  his  father,  staring  hard  at 
the  picture.  The  face  had  developed,  the  body  had  grown 
almost  to  man's  estate,  but  the  hint  of  crispness  was  still 
in  the  hair,  the  mischievous  laughter  in  the  eyes.  The 
rector  gazed  earnestly  at  the  face,  remembering  his  own 
boyhood,  his  own  youth,  his  mind  dwelling,  too,  on  what 
he  had  heard  of  the  original  of  the  portrait.  What  had 
happened  to  the  boy,  to  bring  to  naught  the  fair  promise 
of  this  earlier  presentment  ? 

He  was  aroused  by  the  voice  of  Eldon  Parr,  who  had  sunk 
into  one  of  the  leather  chairs. 

"  I  can  see  him  now,"  he  was  saying,  "  as  he  used  to 
come  running  down  that  long  flight  of  stone  steps  in  Ran- 
some  Street  to  meet  me  when  I  came  home.  Such  laughter ! 
And  once,  in  his  eagerness,  he  fell  and  cut  his  forehead. 
I  shall  never  forget  how  I  felt.  And  when  I  picked  him 
up  he  tried  to  laugh  still,  with  the  tears  rolling  down  his 
face.  You  know  the  way  a  child's  breath  catches,  Hodder  ? 
He  was  always  laughing.  And  how  he  used  to  cling  to 
me,  and  beg  me  to  take  him  out,  and  show  such  an  interest 
in  everything  !  He  was  a  bright  boy,  a  remarkable  child, 
I  thought,  but  I  suppose  it  was  my  foolishness.  He  ana 
lyzed  all  he  saw,  and  when  he  used  to  go  off  in  my  car, 


"WATCHMAN,   WHAT   OB"    THE   NIGHT?"         85 

firennan,  the  engineer,  would  always  beg  to  have  him  in  the 
cab.  And  such  sympathy  !  He  knew  in  an  instant  when 
I  was  worried.  I  had  dreams  of  what  that  boy  world  be 
come,  but  I  was  too  sure  of  it.  I  went  on  doing  other 
things  —  there  were  so  many  things,  and  I  was  a  slave  to 
them.  And  before  I  knew  it,  he'd  gone  off  to  school  — 
that  was  the  year  I  moved  up  here,  and  my  wife  died. 
And  after  that,  all  seemed  to  go  wrong.  Perhaps  I  was 
too  severe  ;  perhaps  they  didn't  understand  him  at  board 
ing-school  ;  perhaps  I  didn't  pay  enough  attention  to  him. 
At  any  rate,  the  first  thing  I  knew  his  whole  nature  seemed 
to  have  changed.  He  got  into  scrape  after  scrape  at  Har 
vard,  and  later  he  came  within  an  ace  of  marrying  a  woman. 
.  .  .  He's  my  weakness  to-day.  I  can  say  no  to  every 
body  in  the  world  but  to  him,  and  when  I  try  to  remember 
him  as  he  used  to  come  down  those  steps  on  Ransome 
Street.  .  .  . 

"  He  never  knew  how  much  I  cared  —  that  what  I  was 
doing  was  all  for  him,  building  for  him,  that  he  might 
carry  on  my  work.  I  had  dreams  of  developing  this  city, 
the  great  Southwest,  and  after  I  had  gone  Preston  was  to 
bring  them  to  fruition.  . 

"  For  some  reason  I  never  was  able  to  tell  him  all  this 
—  as  I  am  telling  you.  The  words  would  not  come.  We  . 
had  grown  apart.  And  he  seemed  to  think  —  God  knows 
why  !  — he  seemed  to  think  I  disliked  him.  I  had  Lang- 
maid  talk  to  him,  and  other  men  I  trusted  —  tell  him 
what  an  unparalleled  opportunity  he  had  to  be  of  use  in 
the  world.  Once  I  thought  I  had  him  started  straight  — 
and  then  a  woman  came  along  —  off  the  streets,  or  little 
better.  He  insisted  on  marrying  her  and  wrecking  his 
life,  and  when  I  got  her  out  of  the  way,  as  any  father  would 
have  done,  he  left  me.  He  has  never  forgiven  me.  Most 
of  the  time  I  haven't  even  the  satisfaction  of  knowing 
where  he  is —  London,  Paris,  or  New  York.  I  try  not  to 
think  of  what  he  does.  I  ought  to  cut  him  off,  —  I  can't 
do  it  —  I  can't  do  it,  Hodder  —  he's  my  one  weakness  still. 
I'm  afraid — .he'd  sink  out  of  sight  entirely,  and  it's  the 
one  hold  I  have  left  on  him." 


86  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Eldon  Parr  paused,  with  a  groan  that  betokened  not 
only  a  poignant  sorrow,  but  also  something  of  relief — for 
the  tortures  of  not  being  able  to  unburden  himself  had 
plainly  become  intolerable.  He  glanced  up  and  met  the 
compassionate  eyes  of  the  rector,  who  stood  leaning  against 
the  mantel. 

"With  Alison  it  was  different,"  he  said.  "I  never  un 
derstood  her  —  even  when  she  was  a  child  —  and  I  used 
to  look  at  her  and  wonder  that  she  could  be  my  daughter. 
She  was  moody,  intense,  with  a  yearning  for  affection  — 
I've  since  sometimes  thought  —  she  could  not  express.  I 
did  not  feel  the  need  of  affection  in  those  days,  so 
absorbed  was  I  in  building  up,  —  so  absorbed  and  driven, 
you  might  say.  I  suppose  I  must  accept  my  punish 
ment  as  just.  But  the  child  was  always  distant  with  me, 
and  I  always  remember  her  in  rebellion ;  a  dark  little 
thing  with  a  quivering  lip,  hair  awry,  and  eyes  that  flashed 
through  her  tears.  She  would  take  any  amount  of  punish 
ment  rather  than  admit  she  had  been  in  the  wrong.  I 
recall  she  had  once  a  fox  terrier  that  never  left  her,  that 
fought  all  the  dogs  in  the  neighbourhood  and  destroyed 
the  rugs  and  cushions  in  the  house.  I  got  rid  of  it  one 
summer  when  she  was  at  the  sea,  and  I  think  she  never 
forgave  me.  The  lirst  question  she  asked  when  she 
came  home  was  for  that  dog  —  Mischief,  his  name  was  — 
for  Mischief.  I  told  her  what  I  had  done.  It  took  more 
courage  than  I  had  thought.  She  went  to  her  room,  locked 
herself  in,  and  stayed  there,  and  we  couldn't  get  her  to 
come  out  for  two  days ;  she  wouldn't  even  eat. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  jealous  of  Preston,  but  she  never 
acknowledged  it.  When  she  was  little  she  used  once  in  a 
while  to  come  shyly  and  sit  on  my  lap,  and  look  at  me 
without  saying  anything.  I  hadn't  the  slightest  notion 
what  was  in  the  child's  mind,  and  her  reserve  increased  as 
she  grew  older.  She  seemed  to  have  developed  a  sort  of 
philosophy  of  her  own  even  before  she  went  away  to  school, 
and  to  have  certain  strongly  defined  tastes.  She  liked,  for 
instance,  to  listen  to  music,  and  for  that  very  reason  would 
never  leani  to  play.  We  couldn't  make  her,  as  a  child. 


"WATCHMAN,   WHAT    OF   THE  NIGHT?"       87 

Bad  music,  she  said,  offended  her.  She  painted,  she  was 
passionately  fond  of  flowers,  and  her  room  was  always 
filled  with  them.  When  she  came  back  from  school  to 
live  with  me,  she  built  a  studio  upstairs.  After  the  first 
winter,  she  didn't  care  to  go  out  much.  By  so  pronounced 
a  character,  young  men  in  general  were  not  attracted,  but 
there  were  a  few  who  fell  under  a  sort  of  spell.  I  can 
think  of  no  other  words  strong  enough,  and  I  used  to 
watch  them  when  they  came  here  with  a  curious  interest. 
I  didn't  approve  of  all  of  them.  Alison  would  dismiss 
them  or  ignore  them  or  be  kind  to  them  as  she  happened 
to  feel,  yet  it  didn't  seem  to  make  any  difference.  One 
I  suspect  she  was  in  love  with  —  a  fellow  without  a  cent. 

"  Then  there  was  Bedloe  Hubbell.  I  have  reason  enough 
to  be  thankful  now  that  she  didn't  care  for  him.  They've 
made  him  president,  you  know,  of  this  idiotic  Municipal 
League,  as  they  call  it.  But  in  those  days  he  hadn't  de 
veloped  any  nonsense,  he  was  making  a  good  start  at  the 
bar,  and  was  well  off.  His  father  was  Elias  Hubbell,  who 
gave  the  Botanical  Garden  to  the  city.  I  wanted  her  to 
marry  Gordon  Atterbury.  He  hung  on  longer  than  any 
of  them  —  five  or  six  years  ;  but  she  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 
That  was  how  the  real  difference  developed  between  us, 
although  the  trouble  was  deep  rooted,  for  we  never  really 
understood  each  other.  I  had  set  my  heart  on  it,  arid  per 
haps  I  was  too  dictatorial  and  insistent.  I  don't  know. 
I  meant  the  best  for  her,  God  knows.  .  .  .  Gordon  never 
got  over  it.  It  dried  him  up."  .  .  .  Irritation  was  creep 
ing  back  into  the  banker's  voice. 

"  Then  it  came  into  Alison's  head  that  she  wanted  to 
'make  something  of  her  life,'  —  as  she  expressed  it.  She 
said  she  was  wasting  herself,  and  began  going  to  lectures 
with  a  lot  of  faddish  women,  became  saturated  with  these 
nonsensical  ideas  about  her  sex  that  are  doing  so  much 
harm  nowadays.  I  suppose  I  was  wrong  in  my  treatment 
from  the  first.  I  never  knew  how  to  handle  her,  but  we 
grew  like  flint  and  steel.  I'll  say  this  for  her,  she  kept 
quiet  enough,  but  she  used  to  sit  opposite  me  at  the  table, 
and  I  knew  all  the  time  what  she  was  thinking  of,  and 


88  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

then  I'd  break  out.  Of  course  she'd  defend  herself,  but 
she  had  her  temper  under  better  control  than  I.  She 
wanted  to  go  away  for  a  year  or  two  and  study  landscape 
gardening,  and  then  come  back  and  establish  herself  in  an 
office  here.  I  wouldn't  listen  to  it.  And  one  morning, 
when  she  was  late  to  breakfast,  I  delivered  an  ultimatum. 
I  gave  her  a  lecture  on  a  woman's  place  and  a  woman's 
duty,  and  told  her  that  if  she  didn't  marry  she'd  have  to 
stay  here  and  live  quietly  with  me,  or  I'd  disinherit  her." 

Hodder  had  become  absorbed  in  this  portrait  of  Alison 
Parr,  drawn  by  her  father  with  such  unconscious  vividness. 

"And  then?"  he  asked. 

In  spite  of  the  tone  of  bitterness  in  which  he  had  spoken, 
Eldon  Parr  smiled.  It  was  a  reluctant  tribute  to  his 
daughter. 

"I  got  an  ultimatum  in  return,"  he  said.  "Alison 
should  have  been  a  man."  His  anger  mounted  quickly 
as  he  recalled  the  scene.  "She  said  she  had  thought  it 
all  out :  that  our  relationship  had  become  impossible  ;  that 
she  had  no  doubt  it  was  largely  her  fault,  but  that  was 
the  way  she  was  made,  and  she  couldn't  change.  She  had, 
naturally,  an  affection  for  me  as  her  father,  but  it  was  very 
plain  we  couldn't  get  along  together :  she  was  convinced 
that  she  had  a  right  to  individual  freedom,  —  as  she  spoke 
of  it,  —  to  develop  herself.  She  knew,  if  she  continued  to 
live  with  me  on  the  terms  I  demanded,  that  her  character 
would  deteriorate.  Certain  kinds  of  sacrifice  she  was 
capable  of,  she  thought,  but  what  I  asked  would  be  a 
useless  one.  Perhaps  I  didn't  realize  it,  but  it  was  slavery. 
Slavery  !  "  he  repeated,  "  the  kind  of  slavery  her  mother 
had  lived.  .  .  ." 

He  took  a  turn  around  the  room. 

"  So  far  as  money  was  concerned,  she  was  indifferent  to 
it.  She  had  enough  from  her  mother  to  last  until  she 
began  to  make  more.  She  wouldn't  take  any  from  me  in 
any  case.  I  laughed,  yet  I  have  never  been  so  angry  in 
my  life.  Nor  was  it  wholly  anger,  Hodder,  but  a  queer 
tangle  of  feelings  I  can't  describe.  There  was  affection 
mixed  up  in  it  —  I  realized  afterward  —  but  I  longed  to 


"WATCHMAN,   WHAT   OF   THE   NIGHT?7'       89 

take  her  and  shake  her  and  lock  her  up  until  she  should 
come  to  her  senses.  I  couldn't.  I  didn't  dare.  I  was 
helpless.  I  told  her  to  go.  She  didn't  say  anything  more, 
but  there  was  a  determined  look  in  her  eyes  when  she 
kissed  me  as  I  left  for  the  office.  I  spent  a  miserable  day. 
More  than  once  I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  home,  but  pride 
stopped  me.  I  really  didn't  think  she  meant  what  she 
said.  When  I  got  back  to  the  house  in  the  afternoon  she 
had  left  for  New  York.  .  .  . 

44  Then  I  began  to  look  forward  to  the  time  when  her 
money  would  give  out.  She  went  to  Paris  with  another 
young  woman,  and  studied  there,  and  then  to  England. 
She  came  back  to  New  York,  hired  an  apartment  and  a 
studio,  and  has  made  a  success." 

The  rector  seemed  to  detect  an  unwilling  note  of  pride 
at  the  magic  word. 

"  It  isn't  the  kind  of  success  I  think  much  of,  but  it's 
what  she  started  out  to  do.  She  comes  out  to  see  me, 
once  in  a  while,  and  she  designed  that  garden." 

He  halted  in  front  of  the  clergyman. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  it's  strange,  my  telling  you  this," 
he  said.  "  It  has  come  to  the  point,"  he  declared  vehe 
mently,  "  where  it  relieves  me  to  tell  somebody,  and  you 
seem  to  be  a  man  of  discretion  and  common-sense." 

Hodder  looked  down  into  Mr.  Parr's  face,  and  was  silent. 
Perhaps  he  recognized,  as  never  before,  the  futility  of  the 
traditional  words  of  comfort,  of  rebuke.  He  beheld  a  soul 
in  torture,  and  realized  with  sudden  sharpness  how  limited 
was  his  knowledge  of  the  conditions  of  existence  of  his 
own  time.  Everywhere  individualism  reared  its  ugly  head, 
everywhere  it  seemed  plausible  to  plead  justification  ;  and 
once  more  he  encountered  that  incompatibility  of  which 
Mrs.  Constable  had  spoken!  He  might  blame  the  son, 
blame  the  daughter,  yet  he  could  not  condemn  them 
utterly.  .  .  .  One  thing  he  saw  clearly,  that  Eldon  Parr\ 
had  slipped  into  what  was  still,  for  him,  a  meaningless  J 
hell. 

The  banker's  manner  suddenly  changed,  reverted  to 
what  it  had  been.  He  arose. 


90  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I've  tried  to  do  my  duty  as  I  saw  it,  and  it  comes  to 
this  —  that  we  who  have  spent  the  best  years  of  our  lives 
in  striving  to  develop  this  country  have  no  thanks  from 
our  children  or  from  any  one  else." 

With  his  hand  on  the  electric  switch,  he  faced  Hodder 
almost  defiantly  as  he  spoke  these  words,  and  suddenly 
snapped  off  the  light,  as  though  the  matter  admitted  of 
na  discussion.  In  semi-darkness  they  groped  down  the 
upper  flight  of  stairs.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WOULD 


WHEN  summer  arrived,  the  birds  of  brilliant  plumage 
of  Mr.  Hodder's  flock  arose  and  flew  lightly  away,  thus 
reversing  the  seasons.  Only  the  soberer  ones  came  flut 
tering  into  the  cool  church  out  of  the  blinding  heat,  and 
settled  here  and  there  throughout  the  nave.  The  ample 
Mr.  Bradley,  perspiring  in  an  alpaca  coat,  took  up  the 
meagre  collection  on  the  right  of  the  centre  aisle ;  for 
Mr.  Parr,  properly  heralded,  had  gone  abroad  on  one  of 
those  periodical,  though  lonely  tours  that  sent  anticipatory 
shivers  of  delight  down  the  spines  of  foreign  picture- 
dealers.  The  faithful  Gordon  Atterbury  was  worshipping 
at  the  sea,  and  even  Mr.  Constable  and  Mr.  Plimpton, 
when  recalled  to  the  city  by  financial  cares,  succumbed  to 
the  pagan  influence  of  the  sun,  and  were  usually  to  be 
found  on  Sunday  mornings  on  the  wide  veranda  of  the 
country  club,  with  glasses  containing  liquid  and  ice  beside 
them,  and  surrounded  by  heaps  of  newspapers. 

To  judge  by  St.  John's,  the  city  was  empty.  But  on 
occasions,  before  he  himself  somewhat  tardily  departed,  — 
drawn  thither  by  a  morbid  though  impelling  attraction,  — 
Hodder  occasionally  walked  through  Dalton  Street  of  an 
evening.  If  not  in  St.  John's,  summer  was  the  season  in 
Dalton  Street.  It  flung  open  its  doors  and  windows 
and  moved  out  on  the  steps  and  the  pavements,  and  even 
on  the  asphalt ;  and  the  music  of  its  cafes  and  dance-halls 
throbbed  feverishly  through  the  hot  nights.  Dalton 
Street  resorted  neither  to  country  club  nor  church. 

Mr.  MeCrae,  Hodder's  assistant,  seemed  to  regard  these 

91 


92  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

annual  phenomena  with  a  grim  philosophy,  —  a  relic,  per 
haps,  of  the  Calvinistic  determinism  of  his  ancestors.  He 
preached  the  same  indefinite  sermons,  with  the  same  im 
perturbability,  to  the  dwindled  congregations  in  summer 
and  the  enlarged  ones  in  winter.  But  Hodder  was  capable 
of  no  such  resignation  —  if  resignation  it  were,  for  the 
self-contained  assistant  continued  to  be  an  enigma ;  and 
it  was  not  without  compunction  that  he  left,  about  the 
middle  of  July,  on  his  own  vacation.  He  was  tired,  and 
yet  he  seemed  to  have  accomplished  nothing  in  this  first 
year  of  the  city  parish  whereof  he  had  dreamed.  And  it 
was,  no  doubt,  for  that  very  reason  that  he  was  conscious 
of  a  depressing  exhaustion  as  his  train  rolled  eastward  over 
that  same  high  bridge  that  spanned  the  hot  and  muddy 
waters  of  the  river.  He  felt  a  fugitive.  In  no  months 
since  he  had  left  the  theological  seminary,  had  he  seem 
ingly  accomplished  so  little  ;  in  no  months  had^he  had  so 
magnificent  an  opportunity. 

After  he  had  reached  the  peaceful  hills  at  Bremerton 
—  where  he  had  gone  on  Mrs.  Whitely 's  invitation  —  he 
began  to  look  back  upon  the  spring  and  winter  as  a  kind 
of  mad  nightmare,  a  period  of  ceaseless,  distracted,  and 
dissipated  activity,  of  rushing  hither  and  thither  with  no 
results.  He  had  been  aware  of  invisible  barriers,  restrict 
ing,  hemming  him  in  on  all  sides.  There  had  been  no 
time  for  reflection ;  and  now  that  he  had  a  breathing 
space,  he  was  unable  to  see  how  he  might  reorganize  his 
work  in  order  to  make  it  more  efficient. 

There  were  other  perplexities,  brought  about  by  the 
glimpses  he  had  had  into  the  lives  and  beliefs  —  or  rather 
unbeliefs — of  his  new  parishioners.  And  sometimes,  in 
an  unwonted  moment  of  pessimism,  he  asked  himself  why 
they  thought  it  necessary  to  keep  all  that  machinery  going 
when  it  had  so  little  apparent  effect  on  their  lives?  He 
sat  wistfully  in  the  chancel  of  the  little  Bremerton  church 
and  looked  into  the  familiar  faces  of  those  he  had  found 
in  it  when  he  came  to  it,  and  of  those  he  had  brought 
into  it,  wondering  why  he  had  been  foolish  enough  to 
think  himself  endowed  for  the  larger  work.  Here,  he 


THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WORLD  93 

had  been  a  factor,  a  force  in  the  community,  had  entered 
into  its  life  and  affections.  What  was  he  there  ? 

Nor  did  it  tend  to  ease  his  mind  that  he  was  treated  as 
one  who  has  passed  on  to  higher  things. 

"  I  was  afraid  you'd  work  too  hard,"  said  Mrs.  Whitely, 
in  her  motherly  way.  "  I  warned  you  against  it,  Mr. 
Hodder.  You  never  spared  yourself,  but  in  a  big  city 
parish  it's  different.  But  you've  made  such  a  success, 
Nelson  tells  me,  and  everybody  likes  you  there.  I  knew 
they  would,  of  course.  That  is  our  only  comfort  in  losing 
you,  that  you  have  gone  to  the  greater  work.  But  we  do 
miss  you." 

H 

The  air  of  Bremerton,  and  later  the  air  of  Bar  Harbor 
had  a  certain  reviving  effect.  And  John  Hodder,  although 
he  might  be  cast  down,  had  never  once  entertained  the 
notion  of  surrender.  He  was  inclined  to  attribute  the 
depression  through  which  he  had  passed,  the  disappoint 
ment  he  had  undergone  as  a  just  punishment  for  an  over 
abundance  of  ego,  —  only  Hodder  used  the  theological 
term  for  the  same  sin.  Had  he  not,  after  all,  laboured 
largely  for  his  own  glory,  and  not  God's  ?  Had  he  ever 
forgotten  himself  ?  Had  the  idea  ever  been  far  from  his 
thoughts  that  it  was  he,  John  Hodder,  who  would  build 
up  the  parish  of  St.  John's  into  a  living  organization  of 
faith  and  works  ?  The  curious  thing  was  that  he  had  the 
power,  and  save  in  moments  of  weariness  he  felt  it  in  him. 
He  must  try  to  remember  always  that  this  power  was 
from  God.  But  why  had  he  been  unable  to  apply  it  ? 

And  there  remained  disturbingly  in  his  memory  certain 
phrases  of  Mrs.  Constable's,  such  as  "  elements  of  growth." 
He  would  change,  she  had  said ;  and  he  had  appeared  to 
her  as  one  with  depths.  Unsuspected  depths — pockets 
that  held  the  steam,  which  was  increasing  in  pressure. 
At  Bremerton,  it  had  not  gathered  in  the  pockets,  he  had 
used  it  all  —  all  had  counted ;  but  in  the  feverish,  cease 
less  activity  of  the  city  parish  he  had  never  once  felt  that 


94  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

intense  satisfaction  of  emptying  himself,  nor  the  sweet 
weariness  that  follows  it.  His  seemed  the  weariness  of 
futility.  And  introspection  was  revealing  a  crack  —  after 
so  many  years  —  in  that  self  that  he  had  believed  to  be  so 
strongly  welded.  Such  was  the  strain  of  the  pent-up 
force.  He  recognized  the  danger-signal.  The  same  phe 
nomenon  had  driven  him  into  the  Church,  where  the  steam 
had  found  an  outlet  —  until  now.  And  yet,  so  far  as  his 
examination  went,  he  had  not  lost  his  beliefs,  but  the 
power  of  communicating  them  to  others. 

Bremerton,  and  the  sight  of  another  carrying  on  the 
work  in  which  he  had  been  happy,  weighed  upon  him,  and 
Bar  Harbor  offered  distraction.  Mrs.  Larrabbee  had  not 
hesitated  to  remind  him  of  his  promise  to  visit  her.  If 
the  gallery  of  portraits  of  the  congregation  of  St.  John's 
were  to  be  painted,  this  lady's,  at  the  age  of  thirty,  would 
not  be  the  least  interesting.  It  would  have  been  out  of 
place  in  no  ancestral  hall,  and  many  of  her  friends  were 
surprised,  after  her  husband's  death,  that  she  did  not 
choose  one  wherein  to  hang  it.  She  might  have.  For 
she  was  the  quintessence  of  that  feminine  product  of  our 
country  at  which  Europe  has  never  ceased  to  wonder,  and 
to  give  her  history  would  no  more  account  for  her  than 
the  process  of  manufacture  explains  the  most  delicate  of 
scents.  Her  poise,  her  quick  detection  of  sham  in  others 
not  so  fortunate,  her  absolute  conviction  that  all  things 
were  as  they  ought  to  be  ;  her  charity,  her  interest  in  its 
recipients ;  her  smile,  which  was  kindness  itself  ;  her  deli 
cate  features,  her  white  skin  with  its  natural  bloom ;  the 
grace  of  her  movements,  and  her  hair,  which  had  a  differ 
ent  color  in  changing  lights  —  such  an  ensemble  is  not  to 
be  depicted  save  by  a  skilled  hand. 

The  late  Mr.  Larrabbee's  name  was  still  printed  on  mil 
lions  of  bright  labels  encircling  cubes  of  tobacco,  now 
manufactured  by  a  Trust.  However,  since  the  kind 
that  entered  Mrs.  Larrabbee's  house,  or  houses,  was  all 
imported  from  Egypt  or  Cuba,  what  might  have  been  in 
the  nature  of  an  unpleasant  reminder  was  remote  from  her 
sight,  and  she  never  drove  into  the  northern  part  of  the 


THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WORLD  95 

city,  where  some  hundreds  of  young  women  bent  all  day 
over  the  cutting-machines.  To  enter  too  definitely  into 
Mrs.  Larrabbee's  history,  therefore,  were  merely  to  be 
crude,  for  she  is  not  a  lady  to  caricature.  Her  father  had 
been  a  steamboat  captain  —  once  an  honoured  calling  in 
the  city  of  her  nativity  —  a  devout  Presbyterian  who  be 
lieved  in  the  most  rigid  simplicity.  Few  who  remembered 
the  gaucheries  of  Captain  Corington's  daughter  on  her 
first  presentation  to  his  family's  friends  could  recognize 
her  in  the  cosmopolitan  Mrs.  Larrabbee.  Why,  with  New 
York  and  London  at  her  disposal,  she  elected  to  remain 
in  the  Middle  West,  puzzled  them,  though  they  found  her 
answer,  "  that  she  belonged  there,"  satisfying.  Grace 
Larrabbee's  cosmopolitanism  was  of  that  apperception  that 
knows  the  value  of  roots,  and  during  her  widowhood  she 
had  been  thrusting  them  out.  Mrs.  Larrabbee  followed 
by  "  of  "  was  much  more  important  than  just  Mrs.  Larrab 
bee.  And  she  was,  moreover,  genuinely  attached  to  her 
roots. 

Her  girlhood  shyness  —  rudeness,  some  called  it,  mis 
taking  the  effect  for  the  cause  —  had  refined  into  a  manner 
that  might  be  characterized  as  difficile,  though  Hodder  had 
never  found  her  so.  She  liked  direct  men  ;  to  discover 
no  guile  on  first  acquaintance  went  a  long  way  with  her, 
and  not  the  least  of  the  new  rector's  social  triumphs  had 
been  his  simple  conquest. 

Enveloped  in  white  flannel,  she  met  his  early  train  at 
the  Ferry  ;  an  unusual  compliment  to  a  guest,  had  he  but 
known  it,  but  he  accepted  it  as  a  tribute  to  the  Church. 

"I  was  so  afraid  you  wouldn't  come,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  that  conveyed  indeed  more  than  a  perfunctory  ex 
pression.  She  glanced  at  him  as  he  sat  beside  her  on  the 
cushions  of  the  flying  motor  boat,  his  strange  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  blue  mountains  of  the  island  whither  they  were 
bound,  his  unruly  hair  fanned  by  the  wind. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling  at  the  face  beneath  the  fly 
ing  veil. 

"  You  need  the  rest.  I  believe  in  men  taking  their 
work  seriously,  but  not  so  seriously  as  you  do." 


96  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

She  was  so  undisguisedly  glad  to  see  him  that  he  could 
scarcely  have  been  human  if  he  had  not  responded.  And 
she  gave  him,  in  that  fortnight,  a  glimpse  of  a  life  that 
was  new  and  distracting  :  at  times  made  him  forget  —  and 
he  was  willing  to  forget  —  the  lower  forms  of  which  it  was 
the  quintessence,  —  the  factories  that  hummed,  the  forges 
that  flung  their  fires  into  the  night  in  order  that  it  might 
exist ;  the  Dalton  Streets  that  went  without.  The  effluvia 
from  hot  asphalt  bore  no  resemblance  to  the  salt-laden  air 
that  rattled  the  Venetian  blinds  of  the  big  bedroom  to 
which  he  was  assigned.  Her  villa  was  set  high  above  the 
curving  shore,  facing  a  sheltered  terrace-garden  resplen 
dent  in  its  August  glory ;  to  seaward,  islands  danced 
in  the  haze ;  and  behind  the  house,  in  the  sunlight,  were 
massed  spruces  of  a  brilliant  arsenic  green  with  purple 
cones.  The  fluttering  awnings  were  striped  cardinal  and 
white. 

Nature  and  man  seemed  to  have  conspired  to  make  this 
place  vividly  unreal,  as  a  toy  village  comes  painted  from 
the  shop.  There  were  no  half-tones,  no  poverty  —  in 
sight,  at  least ;  no  litter.  On  the  streets  and  roads,  at  the 
casino  attached  to  the  swimming-pool  and  at  the  golf  club 
were  to  be  seen  bewildering  arrays  of  well-dressed,  well- 
fed  women  intent  upon  pleasure  and  exercise.  Some  of 
them  gave  him  glances  that  seemed  to  say,  "You  belong 
to  us,"  and  almost  succeeded  in  establishing  the  delusion. 
The  whole  effect  upon  Hodder,  in  the  state  of  mind  in 
which  he  found  himself,  was  reacting,  stimulating,  dis 
quieting.  At  luncheons  and  dinners,  he  was  what  is 
known  as  a  "  success  "  —  always  that  magic  word. 

He  resisted,  and  none  so  quick  as  women  to  scent  re 
sistance.  His  very  unbending  attitude  aroused  their  in 
herent  craving  for  rigidity  in  his  profession ;  he  was 
neither  plastic,  unctuous,  nor  subservient ;  his  very  home 
liness,  redeemed  by  the  eyes  and  mouth,  compelled  their 
attention.  One  of  them  told  Mrs.  Larrabbee  that  that 
rector  of  hers  would  udo  something." 

But  what,  he  asked  himself,  was  he  resisting?  He  was 
by  no  means  a  Puritan ;  and  while  he  looked  upon  a 


THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WORLD  97 

reasonable  asceticism  as  having  its  place  in  the  faith  that 
he  professed,  it  was  no  asceticism  that  prevented  a  more 
complete  acquiescence  on  his  part  in  the  mad  carnival 
that  surrounded  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  wholly  approve  of  Bar  Harbor," 
his  hostess  remarked,  one  morning. 

"  At  first  sight,  it  is  somewhat  staggering  to  the  pro 
vincial  mind,"  he  replied. 

She  smiled  at  him,  yet  with  knitted  brows. 

"  You  are  always  putting  me  off  —  I  never  can  tell 
what  you  think.  And  yet  I'm  sure  you  have  opinions. 
You  think  these  people  frivolous,  of  course." 

"Most  of  them  are  so,"  he  answered,  "but  that  is  a 
very  superficial  criticism.  The  question  is,  why  are  they 
so?  The  sight  of  Bar  Harbor  leads  a  stranger  to  the 
reflection  that  the  carnival  mood  has  become  permanent 
with  our  countrymen,  and  especially  our  countrywomen." 

"  The  carnival  mood,"  she  repeated  thoughtfully,  "  yes, 
that  expresses  it.  We  are  light,  we  are  always  trying  to 
get  away  from  ourselves,  and  sometimes  I  wonder  whether 
there  are  any  selves  to  get  away  from.  You  ought  to 
stop  us,"  she  added,  almost  accusingly,  "  to  bring  us  to 
our  senses." 

"  That's  just  it,"  he  agreed,  "  why  don't  we  ?  Why  can't 
we?" 

44  If  more  clergymen  were  like  you,  I  think  perhaps  you 
might." 

His  tone,  his  expression,  were  revelations. 

44 1 — !"  he  exclaimed  sharply,  and  controlled  himself. 
But  in  that  moment  Grace  Larrabbee  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
man  who  had  come  to  arouse  in  her  an  intense  curiosity. 
For  an  instant  a  tongue  of  the  fires  of  Vulcan  had  shot 
forth,  fires  that  she  had  suspected. 

44  Aren't  you  too  ambitious  ?  "  she  asked  gently.  And 
again,  although  she  did  not  often  blunder,  she  saw  him 
wince.  44 1  don't  mean  ambitious  for  yourself.  But 
surely  you  have  made  a  remarkable  beginning  at  St. 
John's.  Everybody  admires  and  respects  you,  has  con 
fidence  in  you.  You  are  so  sure  of  yourself,"  she  hesitated 


98  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

a  moment,  for  she  had  never  ventured  to  discuss  religion 
with  him,  "  of  your  faith.  Clergymen  ought  not  to  be 
apologetic,  and  your  conviction  cannot  fail,  in  the  long 
run,  to  have  its  effect." 

"  Its  effect,  —  on  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

Mrs.  Larrabbee  was  suddenly  at  sea.  And  she  prided 
herself  on  a  lack  of  that  vagueness  generally  attributed  to 
her  sex. 

"On  —  on  everything.  On  what  we  were  talking 
about,  —  the  carnival  feeling,  the  levity,  on  the  unbelief 
of  the  age.  Isn't  it  because  the  control  has  been  taken 
off?" 

He  saw  an  opportunity  to  slip  into  smoother  waters. 

"  The  engine  has  lost  its  governor  ?  " 

"  Exactly  I  "  cried  Mrs.  Larrabbee.  "  What  a  clever 
simile  !  " 

"  It  is  Mr.  Parr's,"  said  Hodder.  "  Only  he  was  speak 
ing  of  other  symptoms,  Socialism,  and  its  opposite,  indi 
vidualism, —  not  carnivalism." 

"  Poor  man,"  said  Mrs.  Larrabbee,  accepting  the  new 
ground  as  safer,  yet  with  a  baffled  feeling  that  Hodder 
had  evaded  her  once  more,  "  he  has  had  his  share  of  in 
dividualism  and  carnivalism.  His  son  Preston  was  here 
last  month,  and  was  taken  out  to  the  yacht  every  night 
in  an  unspeakable  state.  And  Alison  hasn't  been  what 
might  be  called  a  blessing." 

"She  must  be  unusual,"  said  the  rector,  musingly. 

"  Oh,  Alison  is  a  Person.  She  has  become  quite  the 
fashion,  and  has  more  work  than  she  can  possibly  attend 
to.  Very  few  women  with  her  good  looks  could  have 
done  what  she  has  without  severe  criticism,  and  something 
worse,  perhaps.  The  most  extraordinary  thing  about  her 
is  her  contempt  for  what  her  father  has  gained,  and  for 
conventionalities.  It  always  amuses  me  when  I  think 
that  she  might  have  been  the  wife  of  Gordon  Atterbury. 
The  Goddess  of  Liberty  linked  to  — what?" 

Hodder  thought  instinctively  of  the  Church.  But  he 
remained  silent. 

"  As  a  rule,  men  are  such  fools  about  the  women  they 


THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WORLD  99 

wish  to  marry,"  she  continued.  "  She  would  have  led 
him  a  dance  for  a  year  or  two,  and  then  calmly  and  inex 
orably  left  him.  And  there  was  her  father,  with  all  his 
ability  and  genius,  couldn't  see  it  either,  but  fondly  im 
agined  that  Alison  as  Gordon  Atterbury's  wife,  would 
magically  become  an  Atterbury  and  a  bourgeoise,  see  that 
the  corners  were  dusted  in  the  big  house,  sew  underwear 
for  the  poor,  and  fast  in  Lent." 

"  And  she  is  happy  —  where  she  is  ?  "  he  inquired  some 
what  naively. 

"  She  is  self -sufficient,"  said  Mrs.  Larrabbee,  with  un 
usual  feeling,  "and  that  is  just  what  most  women  are  not, 
in  these  days.  Oh,  why  has  life  become  such  a  problem  ? 
Sometimes  I  think,  with  all  that  I  have,  I'm  not  so  well 
off  as  one  of  those  salesgirls  in  Ferguson's,  at  home. 
I'm  always  searching  for  things  to  do  —  nothing  is  thrust 
on  me.  There  are  the  charities  —  Gait  House,  and  all 
that,  but  I  never  seem  to  get  at  anything,  at  the  people 
I'd  like  to  help.  It's  like  sending  money  to  China. 
There  is  no  direct  touch  any  more.  It's  like  seeing  one's 
opportunities  through  an  iron  grating." 

Hodder  started  at  the  phrase,  so  exactly  had  she  ex 
pressed  his  own  case. 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  the  iron  grating  bars  the  path  of  the 
Church,  too." 

And  just  what  was  the  iron  grating  ? 

They  had  many  moments  of  intimacy  during  that  fort 
night,  though  none  in  which  the  plumb  of  their  conversa 
tion  descended  to  such  a  depth.  For  he  was,  as  she  had 
said,  always  "putting  her  off."  Was  it  because  he 
couldn't  satisfy  her  craving  ?  give  her  the  solution  for 
which  —  he  began  to  see  —  she  thirsted  ?  Why  didn't 
that  religion  that  she  seemed  outwardly  to  profess  and 
accept  without  qualification  —  the  religion  he  taught  — 
set  her  at  rest  ?  show  her  the  path  ? 

Down  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  he  feared  to  ask. 

That  Mrs.  Larrabbee  was  still  another  revelation,  that 
she  was  not  at  rest,  was  gradually  revealed  to  him  as  the 


I 


100  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   COP 

days  passed.  Her  spirit,  too,  like  his  own,  like  Mrs> 
Constable's,  like  Eldon  Parr's,  like  Eleanor  Goodrich's, 
was  clivided  against  itself ;  and  this  phenomenon  in  Mrs. 
Larrabbee  was  perhaps  a  greater  shock  to  him,  since  he  had 
always  regarded  her  as  essentially  in  equilibrium.  One 
of  his  reasons,  indeed,  —  in  addition  to  the  friendship  that 
had  grown  up  between  them,  —  for  coming  to  visit  her 
had  been  to  gain  the  effect  of  her  poise  on  his  own.  Poise 
in  a  modern  woman,  leading  a  modern  life.  It  was  thus 
she  attracted  him.  It  was  not  that  he  ignored  her 
frivolous  side;  it  was  nicely  balanced  by  the  other,  and 
that  other  seemed  growing.  The  social,  she  accepted  at 
what  appeared  to  be  its  own  worth.  Unlike  Mrs. 
Plimpton,  for  instance,  she  was  so  innately  a  lady  that  she 
had  met  with  no  resistance  in  the  Eastern  watering  places, 
and  her  sense  of  values  had  remained  the  truer  for  it. 

He  did  not  admire  her  the  less  now  he  had  discovered 
that  the  poise  was  not  so  adjusted  as  he  had  thought  it, 
but  his  feeling  about  her  changed,  grew  more  personal, 
more  complicated.  She  was  showing  an  alarming  ten 
dency  to  lean  on  him  at  a  time  when  he  was  examining 
with  some  concern  his  own  supports.  She  possessed 
intelligence  and  fascination,  she  was  a  woman  whose 
attentions  would  have  flattered  and  disturbed  any  man 
with  a  spark  of  virility,  and  Hodder  had  constantly  before 
his  eyes  the  spectacle  of  others  paying  her  court.  Here 
were  danger-signals  again  ! 

Mrs.  Plaice,  a  middle-aged  English  lady  staying  in  the 
house,  never  appeared  until  noon.  Breakfast  was  set  out 
in  the  tiled  and  sheltered  loggia,  where  they  were  fanned 
by  the  cool  airs  of  a  softly  breathing  ocean.  The  world, 
on  these  mornings,  had  a  sparkling  unreality,  the  cold, 
cobalt  sea  stretching  to  sun-lit  isles,  and  beyond,  the 
vividly  painted  shore,  —  the  setting  of  luxury  had  never 
been  so  complete.  And  the  woman  who  sat  opposite  him 
seemed,  like  one  of  her  own  nectarines,  to  be  the  fruit 
that  crowned  it  all. 

Why  not  yield  to  the  enchantment  ?  Why  rebel, 
when  nobody  else  complained  ?  Were  it  not  more  simple 


THE   KINGDOMS   OF   THE   WOULD  101 

to  accept  what  life  sent  in  its  orderly  course  instead  of 
striving  for  an  impossible  and  shadowy  ideal  ?  Very 
shadowy  indeed  !  And  to  what  end  were  his  labours  in 
that  smoky,  western  city,  with  its  heedless  Dalton  Streets 
which  went  their  inevitable  ways  ?  For  he  had  the 
choice. 

To  do  him  justice,  he  was  slow  in  arriving  at  a  realiza 
tion  that  seemed  to  him  so  incredible,  so  preposterous. 
He  was  her  rector  !  And  he  had  accepted,  all  uncon 
sciously,  the  worldly  point  of  view  as  to  Mrs.  Larrabbee, 
—  that  she  was  reserved  for  a  worldly  match.  A  clergy 
man's  wife  !  What  would  become  of  the  clergyman  ? 
And  yet  other  clergymen  had  married  rich  women,  despite 
the  warning  of  the  needle's  eye. 

She  drove  him  in  her  buckboard  to  Jordan's  Pond,  set 
like  a  jewel  in  the  hills,  and  even  to  the  deep,  cliff- 
bordered  inlet  beyond  North  East,  which  reminded  her, 
she  said,  of  a  Norway  fiord.  And  sometimes  they  walked 
together  through  wooded  paths  that  led  them  to  beetling 
shores,  and  sat  listening  to  the  waves  crashing  far  below. 
Silences  and  commonplaces  became  the  rule  instead  of  the 
eager  discussions  with  which  they  had  begun,  —  on  such 
safer  topics  as  the  problem  of  the  social  work  of  modern 
churches.  Her  aromatic  presence,  and  in  this  setting, 
continually  disturbed  him  :  nature's  perfumes,  more  defin 
able,  —  exhalations  of  the  sea  and  spruce,  —  mingled  with 
hers,  anaesthetics  compelling  lethargy.  He  felt  himself 
drowning,  even  wished  to  drown,  —  and  yet  strangely 
resisted. 

"  I  must  go  to-morrow,"  he  said. 

"  To-morrow  —  why  ?  There  is  a  dinner,  you  know, 
and  Mrs.  Waterman  wished  so  particularly  to  meet  you." 

He  did  not  look  at  her.  The  undisguised  note  of  pain 
found  an  echo  within  him.  And  this  was  Mrs.  Larrabbee  ! 

"I  am  sorry,  but  I  must,"  he  told  her,  and  she  may  not 
have  suspected  the  extent  to  which  the  firmness  was 
feigned. 

"  You  have  promised  to  make  other  visits  ?  The  Fergu 
sons, —  they  said  they  expected  you." 


102  .THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

"  I'm  going  west  —  home,"  he  said,  and  the  word 
sounded  odd. 

"  At  this  season  !  But  there  is  nobody  in  church,  at 
least  only  a  few,  and  Mr.  McCrae  can  take  care  of  those 
—  he  always  does.  He  likes  it." 

Hodder  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  He  might  have 
told  her  that  those  outside  the  church  were  troubling  him. 
But  he  did  not,  since  he  had  small  confidence  in  being 
able  to  bring  them  in. 

"  I  have  been  away  too  long,  I  am  getting  spoiled,"  he 
replied,  with  an  attempt  at  lightness.  He  forced  his  eyes 
to  meet  hers,  and  she  read  in  them  an  unalterable  resolu 
tion. 

44  It  is  my  opinion  you  are  too  conscientious,  even  for  a 
clergyman,"  she  said,  and  now  it  was  her  lightness  that 
hurt.  She  protested  no  more.  And  as  she  led  the  way 
homeward  through  the  narrow  forest  path,  her  head  erect, 
still  maintaining  this  lighter  tone,  he  wondered  how 
deeply  she  had  read  him ;  how  far  her  intuition  had 
carried  her  below  the  surface ;  whether  she  guessed  the 
presence  of  that  stifled  thing  in  him  which  was  crying 
feebly  for  life ;  whether  it  was  that  she  had  discovered,  or 
something  else  ?  He  must  give  it  the  chance  it  craved. 
He  must  get  away  —  he  must  think.  To  surrender  now 
would  mean  destruction.  .  .  . 

Early  the  next  morning,  as  he  left  the  pier  in  the  motor 
boat,  he  saw  a  pink  scarf  waving  high  above  him  from  the 
loggia.  And  he  flung  up  his  hand  in  return.  Mingled 
with  a  faint  sense  of  freedom  was  intense  sadness. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LINE   OF   LEAST   RESISTANCE 

FROM  the  vantage  point  of  his  rooms  in  the  parish 
house,  Hodder  reviewed  the  situation.  And  despite  the 
desires  thronging  after  him  in  his  flight  he  had  the  feeling 
of  one  who,  in  the  dark,  has  been  very  near  to  annihilation. 
What  had  shaken  him  most  was  the  revelation  of  an  old 
enemy  which,  watching  its  chance,  had  beset  him  at  the 
first  opportunity  ;  and  at  a  time  when  the  scheme  of  life, 
which  he  flattered  himself  to  have  solved  forever,  was 
threatening  once  more  to  resolve  itself  into  fragments. 
He  had,  as  if  by  a  miracle,  escaped  destruction  in  some 
insidious  form. 

He  shrank  instinctively  from  an  analysis  of  the  woman 
in  regard  to  whom  his  feelings  were  so  complicated,  and 
yet  by  no  means  lacking  in  tenderness.  But  as  time 
went  on,  he  recognized  more  and  more  that  she  had  come 
into  his  life  at  a  moment  when  he  was  peculiarly  vul 
nerable.  She  had  taken  him  off  his  guard.  That  the 
brilliant  Mrs.  Larrabbee  should  have  desired  him  —  or 
what  she  believed  was  him  —  was  food  enough  for 
thought,  was  an  indication  of  an  idealism  in  her  nature 
that  he  would  not  have  suspected.  From  a  worldly  point 
of  view,  the  marriage  would  have  commended  itself  to 
none  of  her  friends.  Yet  Hodder  perceived  clearly  that 
he  could  not  have  given  her  what  she  desired,  since  the 
marriage  would  have  killed  it  in  him.  She  offered  him  the 
other  thing.  Once  again  he  had  managed  somehow  to 
cling  to  his  dream  of  what  the  relationship  between 
man  and  woman  should  be,  and  he  saw  more  and  more 
distinctly  that  he  had  coveted  not  only  the  jewel,  but  its 
setting.  He  could  not  see  her  out  of  it  —  she  faded. 
Nor  could  he  see  himself  in  it. 

103 


104  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Luxury,  —  of  course,  —  that  was  what  he  had  spurned. 
Luxury  in  contrast  to  Dalton  Street,  to  the  whirring 
factories  near  the  church  which  discharged,  at  nightfall, 
their  quotas  of  wan  women  and  stunted  children.  And 
yet  here  he  was  catering  to  luxury,  providing  religion  for 
it !  Religion ! 

Early  in  November  he  heard  that  Mrs.  Larrabbee 
had  suddenly  decided  to  go  abroad  without  returning 
home.  .  .  . 

That  winter  Hodder  might  have  been  likened  to  a  Niag 
ara  for  energy  ;  an  unharnessed  Niagara  —  such  would  have 
been  his  own  comment.  He  seemed  to  turn  no  wheels,  or 
only  a  few  at  least,  and  feebly.  And  while  the  spectacle 
of  their  rector's  zeal  was  no  doubt  an  edifying  one  to  his 
parishioners,  they  gave  him  to  understand  that  they  would 
have  been  satisfied  with  less.  They  admired,  but  chided 
him  gently  ;  and  in  February  Mr.  Parr  offered  to  take  him 
to  Florida.  He  was  tired,  and  it  was  largely  because  he 
dreaded  the.  reflection  inevitable  in  a  period  of  rest,  that  he 
refused.  .  .  .  And  throughout  these  months,  the  feeling 
recurred,  with  increased  strength,  that  McCrae  was  still 
watching  him,  —  the  notion  persisted  that  his  assistant 
held  to  a  theory  of  his  own,  if  he  could  but  be  induced  to 
reveal  it.  Hodder  refrained  from  making  the  appeal. 
Sometimes  he  was  on  the  point  of  losing  patience  with 
this  enigmatic  person. 

Congratulations  on  the  fact  that  his  congregation  was 
increasing  brought  him  little  comfort,  since  a  cold  analysis 
of  the  newcomers  who  were  renting  pews  was  in  itself  an 
indication  of  the  lack  of  that  thing  he  so  vainly  sought. 
The  decorous  families  who  were  now  allying  themselves 
with  St.  John's  did  so  at  the  expense  of  other  churches 
either  more  radical  or  less  fashionable.  What  was  it  he 
sought?  What  did  he  wish  ?  To  fill  the  church  to  over 
flowing  with  the  poor  and  needy  as  well  as  the  rich,  and 
to  enter  into  the  lives  of  all.  Yet  at  a  certain  point  he  met 
a  resistance  that  was  no  less  firm  because  it  was  baffling. 
The  Word,  on  his  lips  at  least,  seemed  to  have  lost  it  effi 
cacy.  The  poor  heeded  it  not,  and  he  preached  to  the 


THE   LINE   OF   LEAST   BESISTANCE  105 

rich  as  from  behind  a  glass.     They  went  on  with  their  1  ^ 
carnival.     Why  this  insatiate  ambition  on  his  part  in  an  * 
age  of  unbelief  ?     Other  clergymen,  not  half  so  fortunate, 
were  apparently  satisfied;   or  else — from  his  conversation 
with  them  —  either  oddly  optimistic  or   resigned.     Why 
not  he? 

It  was  strange,  in  spite  of  everything,  that  hope  sprang 
up  within  him,  a  recurrent  geyser. 

Gradually,  almost  imperceptibly,  he  found  himself  turn 
ing  more  and  more  towards  that  line  of  least  resistance 
which  other  churches  were  following,  as  the  one  Modern 
Solution,  —  institutional  work.  After  all,  in  the  rescuing 
of  bodies  some  method  might  yet  be  discovered  to  revive 
the  souls.  And  there  were  the  children  !  Hodder  might 
have  been  likened  to  an  explorer,  seeking  a  direct  path 
when  there  was  none — a  royal  road.  And  if  this  were 
oblique  it  offered,  at  least,  a  definite  outlet  for  his  energy. 

Such  was,  approximately,  the  state  of  his  mind  early  in 
March  when  Gordon  Atterbury  came  back  from  a  confer 
ence  in  New  York  on  institutional  work,  and  filled  with 
enthusiasm.  St.  John's  was  incredibly  behind  the  times,  so 
he  told  Hodder,  and  later  the  vestry.  Now  that  they  had, 
in  Mr.  Hodder,  a  man  of  action  and  ability  —  ahem!  — 
there  was  no  excuse  for  a  parish  as  wealthy  as  St.  John's,  a 
parish  with  their  opportunities,  considering  the  proximity 
of  Dalton  Street  neighbourhood,  not  enlarging  and  mod 
ernizing  the  parish  house,  not  building  a  settlement  house 
with  kindergartens,  schools,  workshops,  libraries,  a  dis 
pensary  and  day  nurseries.  It  would  undoubtedly  be  an 
expense  —  and  Mr.  Atterbury  looked  at  Mr.  Parr,  who 
drummed  on  the  vestry  table.  They  would  need  extra 
assistants,  deaconesses,  trained  nurses,  and  all  that.  But 
there  were  other  churches  in  the  city  that  were  ahead  of 
St.  John's  —  a  reproach — ahem  ! 

Mr.  Parr  replied  that  he  had  told  the  rector  that  he 
stood  ready  to  contribute  to  such  a  scheme  when  he,  the 
rector,  should  be  ready  to  approve  it.  And  he  looked  at 
Mr.  Hodder. 

Mr.   Hodder  said  he  had  been  considering  the  matter 


106  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

ever  since  his  arrival.  He  had  only  one  criticism  of  insti 
tutional  work,  that  in  his  observation  it  did  not  bring  the 
people  whom  it  reached  into  the  Church  in  any  great  num 
bers.  Perhaps  that  were  too  much  to  ask,  in  these  days. 
For  his  part  he  would  willingly  assume  the  extra  burden, 
and  he  was  far  from  denying  the  positive  good  such  work 
accomplished  through  association  and  by  the  raising  of 
standards. 

Mr.  Ferguson  declared  his  readiness  to  help.  Many  of 
his  salesgirls,  he  said,  lived  in  this  part  of  the  city,  and  he 
would  be  glad  to  do  anything  in  his  power  towards  keep 
ing  them  out  of  the  dance-halls  and  such  places. 

A  committee  was  finally  appointed  consisting  of  Mr. 
Parr,  Mr.  Atterbury,  and  the  rector,  to  consult  architects 
and  to  decide  upon  a  site. 

Hodder  began  a  correspondence  with  experts  in  other 
cities,  collected  plans,  pamphlets,  statistics ;  spent  hours 
with  the  great  child-specialist,  Dr.  Jarvis,  and  with 
certain  clergymen  who  believed  in  institutionalism  as  the 
hope  of  the  future. 

But  McCrae  was  provokingly  non-committal. 

"Oh,  they  may  try  it,"  he  assented  somewhat  grudg 
ingly,  one  day  when  the  rector  had  laid  out  for  his  inspec 
tion  the  architects'  sketch  for  the  settlement  house.  "  No 
doubt  it  will  help  many  poor  bodies  along." 

"  Is  there  anything  else  ? "  the  rector  asked,  looking 
searchingly  at  his  assistant. 

"  It  may  as  well  be  that,"  replied  McCrae. 

The  suspicion  began  to  dawn  on  Hodder  that  the  Scotch 
man's  ideals  were  as  high  as  his  own.  Both  of  them, 
secretly,  regarded  the  new  scheme  as  a  compromise,  a 
yielding  to  the  inevitable.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Ferguson's  remark  that  an  enlarged  parish  house 
and  a  new  settlement  house  might  help  to  keep  some  of 
the  young  women  employed  in  his  department  store  out 
of  the  dance-halls  interested  Hodder,  who  conceived  the 
idea  of  a  dance-hall  of  their  own.  For  the  rector,  in  the 
course  of  his  bachelor  shopping,  often  resorted  to  the  em 
porium  of  his  vestryman,  to  stand  on  the  stairway  which 


THE   LINE   OF   LEAST   RESISTANCE  107 

carried  him  upward  without  lifting  his  feet ;  to  roam,  fasci 
nated,  through  the  mazes  of  its  aisles,  where  he  invariably 
got  lost,  and  was  rescued  by  suave  floor-walkers  or  pert 
young  women  in  black  gowns  and  white  collars  and  cuffs. 
But  they  were  not  all  pert  —  there  were  many  characters, 
many  types.  And  he  often  wondered  whether  they  did 
not  get  tired  standing  on  their  feet  all  day  long,  hesitating 
to  ask  them;  speculated  on  their  lives  —  flung  as  most  of 
them  were  on  a  heedless  city,  and  left  to  shift  for  them 
selves.  Why  was  it  that  the  Church  which  cared  for 
Mr.  Ferguson's  soul  was  unable  to  get  in  touch  with,  or 
make  an  appeal  to,  those  of  his  thousand  employees  ? 

It  might  indeed  have  been  said  that  Francis  Ferguson 
cared  for  his  own  soul,  as  he  cared  for  the  rest  of  his  prop 
erty,  and  kept  it  carefully  insured,  —  somewhat,  perhaps, 
on  the  principle  of  Pascal's  wager.  That  he  had  been  a 
benefactor  to  his  city  no  one  would  den}?-  who  had  seen 
the  fagade  that  covered  a  whole  block  in  the  business  dis 
trict  from  Tower  to  Vine,  surmounted  by  a  red  standard 
with  the  familiar  motto,  "  When  in  doubt,  go  to  Fergu 
son's."  At  Ferguson's  you  could  buy  anything  from  a 
penwiper  to  a  piano  or  a  Paris  gown;  sit  in  a  cool  restau 
rant  in  summer  or  in  a  palm  garden  in  winter  ;  leave  your 
baby  —  if  you  had  one  —  in  charge  of  the  most  capable 
trained  nurses ;  if  your  taste  were  literary,  mull  over  the 
novels  in  the  Book  Department ;  if  you  were  stout,  you 
might  be  reduced  in  the  Hygiene  Department,  unknown 
to  your  husband  and  intimate  friends.  In  short,  if  there 
were  any  virtuous  human  wish  in  the  power  of  genius  to 
gratify,  Ferguson's  was  the  place.  They  even  taught  you 
how  to  cook.  It  was  a  modern  Aladdin's  palace:  and, 
like  everything  else  modern,  much  more  wonderful  than 
the  original.  And  the  soda  might  be  likened  to  the 
waters  of  Trevi,  —  to  partake  of  which  is  to  return. 

"  When  in  doubt,  go  to  Ferguson!  "  Thus  Mrs.  Larrab- 
bee  and  other  ladies  interested  in  good  works  had  altered 
his  motto.  He  was  one  of  the  supporters  of  Gait  House, 
into  which  some  of  his  own  young  saleswomen  had  occa 
sionally  strayed ;  and  none,  save  Mr.  Parr  alone,  had  been 


108  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

so  liberal  in  his  gifts.  Hodder  invariably  found  it  diffi 
cult  to  reconcile  the  unassuming  man,  whose  conver 
sation  was  so  commonplace,  with  the  titanic  genius  who 
had  created  Ferguson's ;  nor  indeed  with  the  owner  of 
the  imposing  marble  mansion  at  Number  5,  Park  Street. 

The  rector  occasionally  dined  there.  He  had  acquired 
a  real  affection  for  Mrs.  Ferguson,  who  resembled  a  burgo 
master's  wife  in  her  evening  gowns  and  jewels,  and  whose 
simple  social  ambitions  had  been  gratified  beyond  her 
dreams.  Her  heart  had  not  shrunken  in  the  process,  rior 
had  she  forgotten  her  somewhat  heterogeneous  acquaint 
ances  in  the  southern  part  of  the  city.  And  it  was  true 
that  when  Gertrude  Constable  had  nearly  died  of  appendi 
citis,  it  was  on  this  lady's  broad  bosom  that  Mrs.  Constable 
had  wept.  Mrs.  Ferguson  had  haunted  the  house,  regard 
less  of  criticism,  and  actually  quivering  with  sympathy. 
Her  more  important  dinner  parties  might  have  been 
likened  to  ill-matched  fours-in-hand,  and  Hodder  had  some 
times  felt  more  of  pity  than  of  amusement  as  she  sat  with 
an  expression  of  terror  on  her  face,  helplessly  watching 
certain  unruly  individuals  taking  their  bits  in  their  teeth 
and  galloping  madly  downhill.  On  one  occasion,  when  he 
sat  beside  her,  a  young  man,  who  shall  be  nameless,  was 
suddenly  heard  to  remark  in  the  midst  of  an  accidental 
lull: 

"  I  never  go  to  church.  What's  the  use  ?  I'm  afraid 
most  of  us  don't  believe  in  hell  any  more." 

A  silence  followed :  of  the  sort  that  chills.  And  the 
young  man,  glancing  down  the  long  board  at  the  clergy 
man,  became  as  red  as  the  carnation  in  his  buttonhole, 
and  in  his  extremity  gulped  down  more  champagne. 

"  Things  are  in  a  dreadful  state  nowadays ! "  Mrs. 
Ferguson  gasped  to  a  paralyzed  company,  and  turned  an 
agonized  face  to  Hodder.  "  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said,  "  I 
don't  know  why  I  asked  him  to-night,  except  that  I  have 
to  have  a  young  man  for  Nan,  and  he's  just  come  to  the 
city,  and  I  was  sorry  for  him.  He's  very  promising  in 
a  business  way  ;  he's  in  Mr.  Plimpton's  trust  company." 

"Please   don't   let   it   trouble   you."     Hodder    turned 


THE   LINE   OF   LEAST   RESISTANCE  109 

and  smiled  a  little,  and  added  whimsically  :   "  We  may  as 
well  face  the  truth." 

"  Oh,  I  should  expect  you  to  be  good  about  it,  but  it 
was  unpardonable,"  she  cried.  .  .  . 

In  the  intervals  when  he  gained  her  attention  he 
strove,  by  talking  lightly  of  other  things,  to  take  her 
mind  off  the  incident,  but  somehow  it  had  left  him 
strangely  and  —  he  felt  —  disproportionately  depressed, 
—  although  he  had  believed  himself  capable  of  facing 
more  or  less  philosophically  that  condition  which  the 
speaker  had  so  frankly  expressed.  Yet  the  remark,  some 
how,  had  had  an  illuminating  effect  like  a  flashlight,  re 
vealing  to  him  the  isolation  of  the  Church  as  never  before. 
And  after  dinner,  as  they  were  going  to  the  smoking 
room,  the  offender  accosted  him  shamefacedly. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  stammered. 

That  the  tall  rector's  regard  was  kindly  did  not  relieve 
his  discomfort.  Hodder  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Don't  worry  about  it,"  he  answered,  "  I  have  only  one 
regret  as  to  what  you  said  —  that  it  is  true." 

The  other  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  It's  mighty  decent  of  you  to  take  it  this  way,"  he 
said.  Further  speech  failed  him. 

He  was  a  nice-looking  young  man,  with  firm  white  teeth, 
and  honesty  was  written  all  over  his  boyish  face.  And 
the  palpable  fact  that  his  regret  was  more  on  the  clergy 
man's  account  than  for  the  social  faux  pas  drew  Hodder 
the  more,  since  it  bespoke  a  genuineness  of  character. 
He  did  not  see  the  yearning  in  the  rector's  eyes  as  he  turned 
away.  .  .  .  Why  was  it  they  could  not  be  standing  side 
by  side,  fighting  the  same  fight?  The  Church  had  lost 
him,  and  thousands  like  him,  and  she  needed  them ;  could 
not,  indeed,  do  without  them. 

Where,  indeed,  were  the  young  men?  They  did  not 
bother  their  heads  about  spiritual  matters  any  more. 
But  were  they  not,  he  asked  himself,  franker  than  many 
of  these  others,  the  so-called  pillars  of  the  spiritual 
structure  ? 

Mr.  Plimpton  accosted  him.     "  I  congratulate  you  upon 


110  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

the  new  plans,  Mr.  Hodder,  —  they're  great,"  he  said. 
"  Mr.  Parr  and  our  host  are  coming  down  handsomely, 
eh?  When  we  get  the  new  settlement  house  we'll  have  a 
plant  as  up-to-date  as  any  church  in  the  country.  When 
do  you  break  ground?" 

"  Not  until  autumn,  I  believe,"  Hodder  replied.  "  There 
are  a  good  many  details  to  decide  upon  yet." 

"  Well,  I  congratulate  you." 

Mr.  Plimpton  was  forever  congratulating. 

"Up-to-date"  —  "plant"!  More  illuminating  words, 
eloquent  of  Mr.  Plimpton's  ideals.  St.  John's  down  at  the 
heels,  to  be  brought  up  to  the  state  of  efficiency  of  Mr. 
Plimpton's  trust  company  !  It  was  by  no  means  the  first 
time  he  had  heard  modern  attributes  on  Mr.  Plimpton's 
lips  applied  to  a  sacred  institution,  but  to-night  they  had 
a  profoundly  disquieting  effect.  To-night,  a  certain  clair 
voyance  had  been  vouchsafed  him,  and  he  beheld  these 
men,  his  associates  and  supporters,  with  a  detachment 
never  before  achieved. 

They  settled  in  groups  about  the  room,  which  was 
square  and  high,  and  panelled  in  Italian  walnut,  with  fluted 
pilasters,  —  the  capitals  of  which  were  elaborately  carved. 
And  Hodder  found  himself  on  a  deep  leather  sofa  in  a 
corner  engaged  in  a  desultory  and  automatic  conversation 
with  Everett  Constable.  Mr.  Plimpton,  with  a  large 
cigar  between  his  lips,  was  the  radiating  centre  of  one  of 
the  liveliest  groups,  and  of  him  the  rector  had  fallen  into 
a  consideration,  piecing  together  bits  of  information  that 
hitherto  had  floated  meaninglessly  in  his  mind.  It  was 
Mrs.  Larrabbee  who  had  given  character  to  the  career  of  the 
still  comparatively  youthful  and  unquestionably  energetic 
president  of  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  by  likening  it  to 
a  great  spiral,  starting  somewhere  in  outer  regions  of  twi 
light,  and  gradually  drawing  nearer  to  the  centre,  from 
which  he  had  never  taken  his  eyes.  At  the  centre  were 
Eldon  Parr  and  Charlotte  Gore.  Wallis  Plimpton  had 
made  himself  indispensable  to  both. 

His  campaign  for  the  daughter  of  Thurston  Gore  had 
been  comparable  to  one  of  the  great  sieges  of  history,  for 


THE   LINE   OF  LEAST   RESISTANCE  111 

Mr.  Plimpton  was  a  laughing-stock  when  he  sat  down 
before  that  fortress.  At  the  end  of  ten  years,  Charlotte 
had  capitulated,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  realizing  at  last  her 
destiny.  She  had  become  slightly  stout,  revealing,  as  time 
went  on,  no  wrinkles  —  a  proof  that  the  union  was  founded 
on  something  more  enduring  than  poetry.  Statesmanship  — 
that  was  the  secret!  Step  by  step,  slowly  but  surely,  the 
memoranda  in  that  matrimonial  portfolio  were  growing 
into  accomplished  facts;  all  events,  such  as  displacements 
of  power,  were  foreseen;  and  the  Plimptons,  like  Bismarck, 
had  only  to  indicate,  in  case  of  sudden  news,  the  pigeon 
hole  where  the  plan  of  any  particular  campaign  was  filed. 

Mrs.  Larrabbee's  temptation  to  be  witty  at  the  expense 
of  those  for  whom  she  had  no  liking  had  led  Hodder  to 
discount  the  sketch.  He  had  not  disliked  Mr.  Plimpton, 
who  had  done  him  many  little  kindnesses.  He  was  good- 
natured,  never  ruffled,  widely  tolerant,  hail-fellow-well-met 
with  everybody,  and  he  had  enlivened  many  a  vestry  meet 
ing  with  his  stories.  It  were  hypercritical  to  accuse  him 
of  a  lack  of  originality.  And  if  by  taking  thought,  he  had 
arrived,  from  nowhere,  at  his  present  position  of  ease  and 
eminence,  success  had  not  turned  to  ashes  in  his  mouth. 
He  fairly  exhaled  well-being,  happiness,  and  good  cheer. 
Life  had  gone  well  with  him,  he  wished  the  same  to  others. 

But  to-night,  from  his  corner,  Hodder  seemed  to  see 
Mr.  Plimpton  with  new  eyes.  Not  that  he  stood  revealed 
a  villain,  which  he  was  far  from  being;  it  was  the  air  of 
sophistication,  of  good-natured  if  cynical  acceptance  of 
things  as  they  were  —  and  plenty  good  enough,  too!  —  that 
jarred  upon  the  rector  in  his  new  mood,  and  it  was  made 
manifest  to  him  as  never  before  why  his  appeals  from  the 
pulpit  had  lacked  efficacy.  Mr.  Plimpton  didn't  want  the 
world  changed!  And  in  this  desire  he  represented  the 
men  in  that  room,  and  the  majority  of  the  congregation  of 
St.  John's.  The  rector  had  felt  something  of  this  before, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  astonishing  that  the  revelation  had 
not  come  to  him  sooner.  Did  any  one  of  them,  in  his 
heart,  care  anything  for  the  ideals  and  aspirations  of  the 
Church? 


112  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

As  he  gazed  at  them  through  the  gathering  smoke  they 
i,  had  become  strangers,  receded  all  at  once  to  a  great  dis 
tance.  .  .  .  Across  the  room  he  caught  the  name,  Bedloe 
Hubbell,  pronounced  with  peculiar  bitterness  by  Mr. 
Ferguson.  At  his  side  Everett  Constable  was  alert, 
listening. 

"  Ten  years  ago,"  said  a  stout  Mr.  Varnum,  the  President 
of  the  Third  National  Bank,  "  if  you'd  told  me  that  that 
man  was  to  become  a  demagogue  and  a  reformer,  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  you.  Why,  his  company  used  to  take  rebates 
from  the  L.  &  G.,  and  the  Southern  —  I  know  it."  He 
emphasized  the  statement  with  a  blow  on  the  table  that 
made  the  liqueur  glasses  dance.  "  And  now,  with  his  Mu 
nicipal  League,  he's  going  to  clean  up  the  city,  is  he?  Put 
in  a  reform  mayor.  Show  up  what  he  calls  the  Consolidated 
Tractions  Company  scandal.  Pooh!  " 

44  You  got  out  all  right,  Varnum.  You  won't  be  locked 
up,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  banteringly. 

44  So  did  you,"  retorted  Varnum. 

u  So  did  Ferguson,  so  did  Constable." 

44  So  did  Eldon  Parr,"  remarked  another  man,  amidst 
a  climax  of  laughter. 

"  Langmaid  handled  that  pretty  well." 

Hodder  felt  Everett  Constable  fidget. 

44  Bedloe's  all  right,  but  he's  a  dreamer,"  Mr.  Plimpton 
volunteered. 

44  Then  I  wish  he'd  stop  dreaming,"  said  Mr.  Ferguson, 
and  there  was  more  laughter,  although  he  had  spoken 
savagely. 

44  That's  what  he  is,  a  dreamer,"  Varnum  ejaculated. 
44  Say,  he  told  George  Carter  the  other  day  that  prostitution 
wasn't  necessary,  that  in  fifty  years  we'd  have  largely  done 
away  with  it.  Think  of  that,  and  it's  as  old  as  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah!  " 

44  If  Hubbell  had  his  way,  he'd  make  this  town  look  like 
a  Connecticut  hill  village  —  he'd  drive  all  the  prosperity 
out  of  it.  All  the  railroads  would  have  to  abandon  their 
terminals  —  there'd  be  no  more  traffic,  and  you'd  have  to 
walk  across  the  bridge  to  get  a  drink." 


THE   LINE   OF   LEAST   RESISTANCE  113 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  "  Tom  Beatty's  good  enough 
for  me,  for  a  while." 

Beatty,  Hodder  knew,  was  the  "boss,"  of  the  city,  with 
headquarters  in  a  downtown  saloon. 

"  Beatty's  been  maligned,"  Mr.  Varnum  declared.  '*  I 
don't  say  he's  a  saint,  but  he's  run  the  town  pretty  well, 
on  the  whole,  and  kept  the  vice  where  it  belongs,  out  of 
sight.  He's  made  his  pile,  but  he's  entitled  to  something  — 
we  all  are.  You  always  know  where  you  stand  with 
Beatty.  But  say,  if  Hubbell  and  his  crowd " 

"Don't  worry  about  Bedloe,  —  he'll  get  called  in,  he'll 
come  home  to  roost  like  the  rest  of  them,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton, 
cheerfully.  "  The  people  can't  govern  themselves,  —  only 
Bedloe  doesn't  know  it.  Some  day  he'll  find  it  out."  .  .  . 

The  French  window  beside  him  was  open,  and  Hodder 
slipped  out,  unnoticed,  into  the  warm  night  and  stood 
staring  at  the  darkness.  His  one  desire  had  been  to  get 
away,  out  of  hearing,  and  he  pressed  forward  over  the 
tiled  pavement  until  he  stumbled  against  a  stone  balustrade 
that  guarded  a  drop  of  five  feet  or  so  to  the  lawn  below. 
At  the  same  time  he  heard  his  name  called. 

"  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Hodder  ?  " 

He  started.  The  voice  had  a  wistful  tremulousness 
and  might  almost  have  been  the  echo  of  the  leaves  stirring 
in  the  night  air.  Then  he  perceived,  in  a  shaft  of  light 
from  one  of  the  drawing-room  windows  near  by,  a  girl 
standing  beside  the  balustrade ;  and  as  she  came  towards 
him,  with  tentative  steps,  the  light  played  conjurer,  catching 
the  silvery  gauze  of  her  dress  and  striking  an  aura  through 
the  film  of  her  hair. 

"  It's  Nan  Ferguson,"  she  said. 

"  Of  course,"  he  exclaimed,  collecting  himself.  "  How 
stupid  of  me  not  to  have  recognized  you ! " 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  came  out,"  she  went  on  impulsively, 
yet  shyly,  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  how  sorry  I  was  that  — • 
that  thing  happened  at  the  table." 

u  I  like  that  young  man,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  with  unexpected  gratitude. 
"  So  do  I.     He  really  isn't —  so  bad  as  he  must  seem." 
i 


114  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

"  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  the  rector,  laughing. 

"  I  was  afraid  you'd  think  him  wicked,"  said  Nan.  "  He 
works  awfully  hard,  and  he's  sending  a  brother  through 
college.  He  isn't  a  bit  like  —  some  others  I  know.  He 
wants  to  make  something  of  himself.  And  I  feel  respon 
sible,  because  I  had  mother  ask  him  to-night." 

He  read  her  secret.  No  doubt  she  meant  him  to 
do  so. 

"  You  know  we're  going  away  next  week,  for  the  sum 
mer —  that  is,  mother  and  I,"  she  continued.  "Father 
comes  later.  And  I  do  hope  you'll  make  us  a  visit,  Mr. 
Hodder  —  we  were  disappointed  you  couldn't  come  last 
year."  Nan  hesitated,  and  thrusting  her  hand  into  her 
gown  drew  forth  an  envelope  and  held  it  out  to  him.  "  I 
intended  to  give  you  this  to-night,  to  use  —  for  anything 
you  thought  best." 

He  took  it  gravely.     She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  It  seems  so  little  —  such  a  selfish  way  of  discharging 
one's  obligations,  just  to  write  out  a  cheque,  when  there 
is  so  much  trouble  in  the  world  that  demands  human 
kindness  as  well  as  material  help.  I  drove  up  Dalton 
Street  yesterday,  from  downtown.  You  know  how  hot  it 
was!  And  I  couldn't  help  thinking  how  terrible  it  is 
that  we  who  have  everything  are  so  heedless  of  all  that 
misery.  The  thought  of  it  took  away  all  my  pleasure. 
.  .  .  I'd  do  something  more,  something  personal,  if  I 
could.  Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to,  next  winter.  Why  is 
it  so  difficult  for  all  of  us  to  know  what  to  do?  " 

"  We  have  taken  a  step  forward,  at  any  rate,  when  we 
know  that  it  is  difficult,"  he  said. 

She  gazed  up  at  him  fixedly,  her  attention  caught  by  an 
indefinable  something  in  his  voice,  in  his  smile,  that  thrilled 
and  vaguely  disturbed  her.  She  remembered  it  long  af 
terwards.  It  suddenly  made  her  shy  again ;  as  if,  in  faring 
forth  into  the  darkness,  she  had  come  to  the  threshold  of 
a  mystery,  of  a  revelation  withheld;  and  it  brought  back 
the  sense  of  adventure,  of  the  palpitating  fear  and  daring 
with  which  she  had  come  to  meet  him. 

"  It  is  something  to  know,"  she  repeated,  half  compre- 


THE  LINE   OF  LEAST   RESISTANCE  115 

bending.  The  scraping  of  chairs  within  alarmed  her,  and 
she  stood  ready  to  fly. 

"  But  I  haven't  thanked  you  for  this,"  he  said,  holding 
up  the  envelope.  "It  may  be  that  I  shall  find  some  one 
in  Dalton  Street " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so,"  she  faltered,  breathlessly,  hesitating  a 
moment.  And  then  she  was  gone,  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT 


IT  was  the  last  Sunday  in  May,  and  in  another  week  the 
annual  flight  to  the  seashore  and  the  mountains  would  have 
begun  again.  The  breezes  stealing  into  the  church  through 
the  open  casements  wafted  hither  and  thither  the  odours 
of  the  chancel  flowers,  and  mingled  with  those  fainter  and 
subtler  perfumes  set  free  by  the  rustling  of  summer 
gowns. 

As  on  this  day  he  surveyed  his  decorous  and  fashionable 
congregation,  Hodder  had  something  of  that  sense  of  ex 
tremity  which  the  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles  himself 
must  have  felt  when  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  Are 
opagus  and  made  his  vain  yet  sublime  appeal  to  Athenian 
indifference  and  luxury.  "  And  the  times  of  this  ignorance 
God  winked  at ;  but  now  commandeth  all  men  everywhere 
to  repent."  .  .  .  Some,  indeed,  stirred  uneasily  as  the 
rector  paused,  lowering  their  eyes  before  the  intensity  of 
his  glance,  vaguely  realizing  that  the  man  had  flung  the 
whole  passion  of  his  being  into  the  appeal. 

Heedlessness  —  that  was  God's  accusation  against  them, 
against  the  age.  Materialism,  individualism  !  So  absorbed 
were  they  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  of  distraction,  so  satis 
fied  with  the  current  philosophy,  so  intent  on  surrounding 
themselves  with  beautiful  things  and  thus  shutting  out  the 
sterner  view,  that  they  had  grown  heedless  of  the  divine 
message.  How  few  of  them  availed  themselves  of  their 
spiritual  birthright  to  renew  their  lives  at  the  altar  rail  ! 
And  they  had  permitted  their  own  children  to  wander 
*  away.  .  .  .  Repent  ! 

116 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  117 

There  was  a  note  of  desperation  in  his  appeal,  like  that 
of  the  hermit  who  stands  on  a  mountain  crag  and  warns  the 
gay  and  thoughtless  of  the  valley  of  the  coming  avalanche. 
Had  they  heard  him  at  last  ?  There  were  a  few  moments 
of  tense  silence,  during  which  he  stood  gazing  at  them. 
Then  he  raised  his  arm  in  benediction,  gathered  up  his 
surplice,  descended  the  pulpit  steps,  and  crossed  swiftly 
the  chancel.  .  .  . 

He  had,  as  it  were,  turned  on  all  the  power  in  a  supreme 
effort  to  reach  them.  What  if  he  had  failed  again  ?  Such 
was  the  misgiving  that  beset  him,  after  the  service,  as  he 
got  out  of  his  surplice,  communicated  by  some  occult  telep 
athy.  .  .  .  Mr.  Parr  was  awaiting  him,  and  summoning 
his  courage,  hope  battling  against  intuition,  he  opened  the 
door  into  the  now  empty  church  and  made  his  way  toward 
the  porch,  where  the  sound  of  voices  warned  him  that 
several  persons  were  lingering.  The  nature  of  their  con 
gratulations  confirmed  his  doubts.  Mrs.  Plimpton,  re 
splendent  and  looking  less  robust  than  usual  in  one  of  her 
summer  Paris  gowns,  greeted  him  effusively. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hodder,  what  a  wonderful  sermon  !  "  she 
cried.  "I  can't  express  how  it  made  me  feel  —  so  de 
linquent  !  Of  course  that  is  exactly  the  effect  you  wished. 
And  I  was  just  telling  Wallis  I  was  so  glad  I  waited  until 
Tuesday  to  go  East,  or  I  should  have  missed  it.  You 
surely  must  come  on  to  Hampton  and  visit  us,  and  preach 
it  over  again  in  our  little  stone  church  there,  by  the  sea. 
Good-by  —  and  don't  forget  !  I'll  write  you,  setting  the 
date,  only  we'd  be  glad  to  have  you  any  time." 

"One  of  the  finest  I  ever  heard  —  if  not  the  finest," 
Mr.  Plimpton  declared,  with  a  kind  of  serious  empressement, 
squeezing  his  hand. 

Others  stopped  him  ;  Everett  Constable,  for  one,  and 
the  austere  Mrs.  Atterbury.  Hodder  would  have  avoided 
the  ever  familiar  figure  of  her  son,  Gordon,  in  the  invariable 
black  cutaway  and  checked  trousers,  but  he  was  standing 
beside  Mr.  Parr. 

"  Ahem  !  Why,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  exclaimed,  squinting 
off  his  glasses,  "that  was  a  magnificent  effort.  I  was 


118  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

saying  to  Mr.  Parr  that  it  isn't  often  one  hears  a  sermon 
nowadays  as  able  as  that,  and  as  sound.  Many  clergymen 
refrain  from  preaching  them,  I  sometimes  think,  because 
they  are  afraid  people  won't  like  them." 

"  I  scarcely  think  it's  that,"  the  rector  replied,  a  little 
shortly.  "  We're  afraid  people  won't  heed  them." 

He  became  aware,  as  he  spoke,  of  a  tall  young  woman, 
who  had  cast  an  enigmatic  glance  first  at  Gordon  Atterbury, 
and  then  at  himself. 

"  It  was  a  good  sermon,"  said  Mr.  Parr.  "  You're  com 
ing  to  lunch,  Hodder  ?  " 

The  rector  nodded.  "  I'm  ready  when  you  are,"  he 
answered. 

"The  motor's  waiting,"  said  the  banker,  leading  the 
way  down  the  steps  to  the  sidewalk,  where  he  turned. 
"  Alison,  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Hodder.  This  is  my 
daughter,"  he  added  simply. 

This  sudden  disclosure  of  the  young  woman's  identity 
had  upon  Hodder  a  certain  electric  effect,  and  with  it  came 
a  realization  of  the  extent  to  which  —  from  behind  the 
scenes,  so  to  speak  —  she  had  gradually  aroused  him  to  a 
lively  speculation.  She  seemed  to  have  influenced,  to  a 
greater  or  less  degree,  so  many  lives  with  which  he  had 
come  into  touch  !  Compelled  persons  to  make  up  their 
minds  about  her  !  And  while  he  sympathized  with  Eldon 
Parr  in  his  abandonment,  he  had  never  achieved  the  full 
condemnation  which  —  he  felt  —  an  impartial  Christian 
morality  would  have  meted  out. 

As  he  uttered  the  conventional  phrase  and  took  her 
hand,  he  asked  himself  whether  her  personality  justified 
his  interest.  Her  glance  at  Gordon  Atterbury  in  the 
midst  of  that  gentleman's  felicitations  on  the  sermon  had 
been  expressive,  Hodder  thought,  of  veiled  amusement 
slightly  tinctured  with  contempt  ;  and  he,  Hodder,  felt 
himself  to  have  grown  warm  over  it.  He  could  not  be 
sure  that  Alison  Parr  had  not  included,  in  her  inner  com 
ment,  the  sermon  likewise,  on  which  he  had  so  spent  him 
self.  What  was  she  doing  at  church  ?  As  her  eyes  met 
his  own,  he  seemed  to  read  a  challenge.  He  had  never 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  119 

encountered  a  woman — he  decided  —  who  so  successfully 
concealed  her  thought,  and  at  the  same  time  so  incited 
curiosity  about  it. 

The  effect  of  her  reappearance  on  Gordon  Atterbury  was 
painfully  apparent,  and  Mrs.  Larrabbee's  remark,  "  that  he 
had  never  got  over  it,"  recurred  to  Hodder.  He  possessed 
the  virtue  of  being  faithful,  at  least,  in  spite  of  the  lady's 
apostasy,  and  he  seemed  to  be  galvanized  into  a  tenfold 
nervousness  as  he  hustled  after  them  and  handed  her,  with 
the  elaborate  attention  little  men  are  apt  to  bestow  upon 
women,  into  the  motor. 

"  Er  —  how  long  shall  you  be  here,  Alison  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  not  unkindly,  but  with 
a  touch  of  indifference. 

"  You  treat  us  shamefully,"  he  informed  her,  "  upon  my 
word  !  But  I'm  coming  to  call." 

"  Do,"  said  Alison.  Hodder  caught  her  eye  again,  and 
this  time  he  was  sure  that  she  surprised  in  him  a  certain 
disdain  of  Mr.  Atterbury's  zeal.  Her  smile  was  faint,  yet 
unmistakable. 

He  resented  it.  Indeed,  it  was  with  a  well-defined 
feeling  of  antagonism  that  he  took  his  seat,  and  this  was  en 
hanced  as  they  flew  westward,  Mr.  Parr  wholly  absorbed 
with  the  speaking  trumpet,  energetically  rebuking  at  every 
bounce.  In  the  back  of  the  rector's  mind  lay  a  weight 
which  he  identified,  at  intervals,  with  what  he  was  now 
convinced  was  the  failure  of  his  sermon.  .  .  .  Alison 
took  no  part  in  the  casual  conversation  that  began  when 
they  reached  the  boulevard  and  Mr.  Parr  abandoned  the 
trumpet,  but  lay  back  in  silence  and  apparently  with  en 
tire  comfort  in  a  corner  of  the  limousine. 

At  the  lunch-table  Mr.  Parr  plunged  into  a  discussion 
of  some  of  the  still  undecided  details  of  the  new  settlement 
house,  in  which,  as  the  plans  developed,  he  had  become 
more  and  more  interested.  He  had  made  himself  respon 
sible,  from  time  to  time,  for  additional  sums,  until  the 
original  estimate  had  been  almost  doubled.  Most  of  his 
suggestions  had  come  from  Hodder,  who  had  mastered  the 
subject  with  a  thoroughness  that  appealed  to  the  financier: 


120  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  he  had  gradually  accepted  the  rector's  idea  of  concen 
trating  on  the  children.  Thus  he  had  purchased  an  ad 
joining  piece  of  land  that  was  to  be  a  model  playground, 
in  connection  with  the  gymnasium  and  swimming-pool. 
The  hygienic  department  was  to  be  all  that  modern  science 
could  desire. 

"  If  we  are  going  to  do  the  thing,"  the  banker  would 
remark,  "  we  may  as  well  do  it  thoroughly ;  we  may  as 
well  be  leaders  and  not  followers." 

So,  little  by  little,  the  scheme  had  grown  to  proportions 
that  sometimes  appalled  the  rector  when  he  realized  how 
largely  he  had  been  responsible  for  the  additions,  —  in 
spite  of  the  lukewarmness  with  which  he  had  begun.  And 
yet  it  had  occasionally  been  Mr.  Parr  who,  with  a  sweep 
of  his  hand,  had  added  thousands  to  a  particular  feature: 
thus  the  dance-hall  had  become,  in  prospect,  a  huge  sun- 
parlour  at  the  top  of  the  building,  where  the  children 
were  to  have  their  kindergartens  and  games  in  winter ; 
and  which  might  be  shaded  and  opened  up  to  the  breezes 
in  summer.  What  had  reconciled  Hodder  to  the  enter 
prise  most  of  all,  however,  was  the  chapel  —  in  the  plan 
a  beautiful  Gothic  church  —  whereby  he  hoped  to  make 
the  religious  progress  keep  pace  with  the  social.  Mr.  Parr 
was  decidedly  in  sympathy  with  this  intention,  and  re 
ferred  to  it  now. 

"  I  was  much  impressed  by  what  you  said  in  your  ser 
mon  to-day  as  to  the  need  of  insisting  upon  authority  in 
religious  matters,"  he  declared,  "  and  I  quite  agree  that  we 
should  have  a  chapel  of  some  size  at  the  settlement  house 
for  that  reason.  Those  people  need  spiritual  control.  It's 
what  the  age  needs.  And  when  I  think  of  some  of  the 
sermons  printed  in  the  newspapers  to-day,  and  which  are 
served  up  as  Christianity,  there  is  only  one  term  to  apply 
to  them  —  they  are  criminally  incendiary." 

"  But  isn't  true  Christianity  incendiary,  in  your  mean 
ing  of  the  word  ?  " 

It  was  Alison  who  spoke,  in  a  quiet  and  musical  voice 
that  was  in  striking  contrast  to  the  tone  of  Mr.  Parr, 
which  the  rector  had  thought  unusually  emphatic.  It 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  121 

was  the  first  time  she  had  shown  an  inclination  to  con 
tribute  to  the  talk.  But  since  Hodder  had  sat  down  at 
the  table  her  presence  had  disturbed  him,  and  he  had 
never  been  wholly  free  from  an  uncomfortable  sense  that 
he  was  being  measured  and  weighed. 

Once  or  twice  he  had  stolen  a  glance  at  her  as  she 
sat,  perfectly  at  ease,  and  asked  himself  whether  she  had 
beauty,  and  it  dawned  upon  him  little  by  little  that  the 
very  proportion  she  possessed  made  for  physical  unobtru- 
siveness.  She  was  really  very  tall  for  a  woman.  At  first 
he  would  have  said  her  nose  was  straight,  when  he  per 
ceived  that  it  had  a  delicate  hidden  curve;  her  eyes 
were  curiously  set,  her  dark  hair  parted  in  the  middle, 
brought  down  low  on  each  side  of  the  forehead  and  tied 
in  a  Grecian  knot.  Thus,  in  truth,  he  observed,  were 
seemingly  all  the  elements  of  the  classic,  even  to  the  firm 
yet  slender  column  of  the  neck.  How  had  it  eluded  him  ? 

Her  remark,  if  it  astonished  Hodder,  had  a  dynamic 
effect  on  Eldon  Parr.  And  suddenly  the  rector  compre 
hended  that  the  banker  had  not  so  much  been  talking  to 
him  as  through  him ;  had  been,  as  it  were,  courting  oppo 
sition. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  Christianity  being  incendi 
ary  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Incendiary,  from  your  point  of  view  —  I  made  the 
qualification,"  Alison  replied,  apparently  unmoved  by  his 
obvious  irritation.  "  I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  Christian,  as 
you  know,  but  if  there  is  one  element  in  Christianity  that 
distinguishes  it,  it  is  the  brotherhood  of  man.  That's 
pure  nitroglycerin,  though  it's  been  mixed  with  so  much 
sawdust.  Incendiary  is  a  mild  epithet.  I  never  read 
the  sermons  you  refer  to,  I  dare  say  they're  crude,  but 
they're  probably  attempts  to  release  an  explosive  which 
would  blow  your  comfortable  social  system  and  its  author 
ity  into  atoms." 

Hodder,  who  had  listened  in  amazement,  glanced  at  the 
banker.  He  had  never  before  heard  him  opposed,  or  seen 
him  really  angry. 

"  I've  heard  that  doctrine,"  cried  Mr.  Parr.     "  Those 


122  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

who  are  dissatisfied  with  things  as  they  are  because  they 
have  been  too  stupid  or  too  weak  or  self-indulgent  to  rise, 
find  it  easy  to  twist  the  principles  of  Christianity  into 
revolutionary  propaganda.  It's  a  case  of  the  devil  quot 
ing  Scripture.  The  brotherhood  of  man!  There  has  never 
been  an  age  when  philanthropy  and  organized  charity  were 
on  such  a  scale  as  to-day." 

A  certain  gallant,  indomitable  ring  crept  into  Alison's 
voice ;  she  did  not  seem  in  the  least  dismayed  or  over 
borne. 

"  But  isn't  that  just  where  most  so-called  Christians 
make  their  mistake  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Philanthropy  and 
organiz-ed  charity,  as  they  exist  to-day,  have  very  little 
to  do  with  the  brotherhood  of  man.  Mightn't  it  be  you 
who  are  fooling  yourselves  instead  of  the  incendiaries 
fooling  themselves  ?  So  long  as  you  can  make  yourselves 
believe  that  this  kind  of  charity  is  a  logical  carrying  out 
of  the  Christian  principles,  so  long  are  your  consciences 
satisfied  with  the  social  system  which  your  class,  very 
naturally,  finds  so  comfortable  and  edifying.  The  weak 
and  idiotic  ought  to  be  absurdly  grateful  for  what  is 
flung  to  them,  and  heaven  is  gained  in  the  throwing.  In 
this  way  the  rich  inevitably  become  the  elect,  both  here 
and  hereafter,  and  the  needle's  eye  is  widened  into  a 
gap." 

There  was  on  Mr.  Parr's  lips  a  smile  not  wholly 
pleasant  to  see.  Indeed,  in  the  last  few  minutes  there 
had  been  revealed  to  Hodder  a  side  of  the  banker's 
character  which  had  escaped  him  in  the  two  years  of 
their  acquaintance. 

"I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Parr,  slowly,  drumming  on  the 
table,  "  you  would  say  that  of  the  new  settlement  house 
of  St.  John's,  whereby  we  hope  to  raise  a  whole  neigh 
bourhood." 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  replied  Alison,  with  spirit.  "  The 
social  system  by  which  you  thrive,  and  which  politically 
and  financially  you  strive  to  maintain,  is  diametrically  op 
posed  to  your  creed,  which  is  supposed  to  be  the  brother 
hood  of  man.  But  if  that  were  really  your  creed,  you 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT 

would  work  for  it  politically  and  financially.  You  would 
see  that  your  Church  is  trying  to  do  infinitesimally  what 
the  government,  but  for  your  opposition,  might  do  uni 
versally.  Your  true  creed  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 
You  grind  these  people  down  into  what  is  really  an  eco 
nomic  slavery  and  dependence,  and  then  you  insult  and 
degrade  them  by  inviting  them  to  exercise  and  read  books 
and  sing  hymns  in  your  settlement  house,  and  give  their 
children  crackers  and  milk  and  kindergartens  and  sun 
light  !  I  don't  blame  them  for  not  becoming  Christians 
on  that  basis.  Why,  the  very  day  I  left  New  York  a 
man  over  eighty,  who  had  been  swindled  out  of  all  he 
had,  rather  than  go  to  one  of  those  Christian  institutions 
deliberately  forged  a  check  and  demanded  to  be  sent  to 
the  penitentiary.  He  said  he  could  live  and  die  there 
with  some  self-respect." 

"I  might  have  anticipated  that  you  would  ultimately 
become  a  Socialist,  Alison,"  Mr.  Parr  remarked  —  but  his 
voice  trembled. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  a  Socialist  or  an  Anar 
chist,"  she  answered.  Hodder  thought  he  detected  a  note 
of  hopelessness  in  her  voice,  and  the  spirit  in  it  ebbed  a 
little.  Not  only  did  she  seem  indifferent  to  her  father's 
feeling  —  which  incidentally  added  fuel  to  it  —  but  her 
splendid  disregard  of  him,  as  a  clergyman,  had  made  an 
oddly  powerful  appeal.  And  her  argument !  His  feel 
ings,  as  he  listened  to  this  tremendous  arraignment  of 
Eldon  Parr  by  his  daughter,  are  not  easily  to  be  described. 
To  say  that  she  had  compelled  him,  the  rector  of  St.  John's, 
at  last  to  look  in  the  face  many  conditions  which  he  had 
refused  to  recognize  would  be  too  definite  a  statement. 
Nevertheless,  some  such  thing  had  occurred.  Refutations 
sprang  to  his  lips,  and  died  there,  though  he  had  no  notion 
of  uttering  them.  He  saw  that  to  admit  her  contentions 
would  be  to  behold  crumble  into  ruins  the  structure  that 
he  had  spent  a  life  in  rearing ;  and  yet  something  within  j 
him  responded  to  her  words  —  they  had  the  passionate,  I 
convincing  ring  of  truth. 

By  no  means  the  least  of  their  disturbing  effects  was 


124  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

due  to  the  fact  that  they  came  as  a  climax  to,  as  a  fulfil- 
ment  of  the  revelation  he  had  had  at  the  Fergusons', 
when  something  of  the  true  nature  of  Mr.  Plimpton  and 
others  of  his  congregation  had  suddenly  been  laid  bare. 
And  now  Hodder  looked  at  Eldon  Parr  to  behold  another 
man  from  the  one  he  had  known,  and  in  that  moment 
realized  that  their  relationship  could  never  again  be  the 
same.  .  .  .  Were  his  sympathies  with  the  daughter  ? 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  believe,"  said  Alison,  after  a 
pause.  "  I've  ceased  trying  to  find  out.  What's  the 
use !  "  She  appeared  now  to  be  addressing  no  one  in 
particular. 

A  servant  entered  with  a  card,  and  the  banker's  hand 
shook  perceptibly  as  he  put  down  his  claret  and  adjusted 
his  glasses. 

"Show  him  into  my  office  upstairs,  and  tell  him  I'll  see 
him  at  once,"  he  said,  and  glanced  at  the  rector.  But  it 
was  Alison  whom  he  addressed.  "  I  must  leave  Mr.  Hodder 
to  answer  your  arguments,"  he  added,  with  an  attempt  at 
lightness;  and  then  to  the  rector:  "Perhaps  you  can  con 
vince  her  that  the  Church  is  more  sinned  against  than  sin 
ning,  and  that  Christians  are  not  such  terrible  monsters 
after  all.  You'll  excuse  me  ?" 

"  Certainly."     Hodder  had  risen. 

II 

"Shall  we  have  coffee  in  the  garden?"  Alison  asked. 
"It's  much  nicer  outside  this  time  of  year." 

For  an  instant  he  was  at  a  loss  to  decide  whether  to  accede, 
or  to  make  an  excuse  and  leave  the  house.  Wisdom  seemed 
to  point  to  flight.  But  when  he  glanced  at  her  he  saw  to 
his  surprise  that  the  mood  of  abstraction  into  which  she  had 
fallen  still  held  her  ;  that  the  discussion  which  had  aroused 
Eldon  Parr  to  such  dramatic  anger  had  left  her  serious 
and  thoughtful.  She  betrayed  no  sense  of  triumph  at  hav 
ing  audaciously  and  successfully  combated  him,  and  she 
appeared  now  only  partially  to  be  aware  of  Hodder's  pres 
ence.  His  interest,  his  curiosity  mounted  suddenly  again, 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  125 

overwhelming  once  more  the  antagonism  which  he  had  felt 
come  and  go  in  waves  ;  and  once  more  his  attempted  classi 
fication  of  her  was  swept  away.  She  had  relapsed  into  an 
enigma. 

"  I  like  the  open  air,"  he  answered,  "  and  I  have  always 
wished  to  see  the  garden.  I  have  admired  it  from  the 
windows." 

"  It's  been  on  my  mind  for  some  years,"  she  replied,  as  she 
led  the  way  down  a  flight  of  steps  into  the  vine-covered 
pergola.  "  And  I  intend  to  change  parts  of  it  while  I  am 
out  here.  It  was  one  of  my  first  attempts,  and  I've  learned 
more  since." 

"  You  must  forgive  my  ignorant  praise,"  he  said,  and 
smiled.  "  I  have  always  thought  it  beautiful.  But  I  can 
understand  that  an  artist  is  never  satisfied." 

She  turned  to  him,  and  suddenly  their  eyes  met  and  held 
in  a  momentary,  electric  intensity  that  left  him  warm  and 
agitated.  There  was  nothing  coquettish  in  the  glance,  — 
but  it  was  the  first  distinct  manifestation  that  he  was  of 
consequence.  She  returned  his  smile,  without  levity. 

"  Is  a  clergyman  ever  satisfied  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  He  ought  not  to  be,"  replied  Hodder,  wondering 
whether  she  had  read  him. 

"  Although  you  were  so  considerate,  I  suppose  you  must 
have  thought  it  presumptuous  of  me  to  criticize  your 
profession,  which  is  religion." 

"  Religion,  I  think,  should  be  everybody's,"  he  answered 
quietly. 

She  made  no  reply.  And  he  entered,  as  into  another 
world,  the  circular  arbour  in  which  the  pergola  ended,  so 
complete  in  contrast  was  its  atmosphere  to  that  of  the  x 
house.  The  mansion  he  had  long  since  grown  to  recognize 
as  an  expression  of  the  personality  of  its  owner,  but  this 
classic  bower  was  as  remote  from  it  as  though  it  were  in 
Greece.  He  was  sensitive  to  beauty,  yet  the  beauty  of  the 
place  had  a  perplexing  quality,  which  he  felt  in  the  perfect 
curves  of  the  marble  bench,  in  the  marble  basin  brimming 
to  the  tip  with  clear  water,  —  the  surface  of  which,  flecked 
with  pink  petals,  mirrored  the  azure  sky  through  the  leafy 


126  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

network  of  the  roof.  In  one  green  recess  a  slendei 
Mercury  hastily  adjusted  his  sandal. 

Was  this,  her  art,  the  true  expression  of  her  baffling 
personality  ?  As  she  had  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the 
automobile  she  had  given  him  the  impression  of  a  languor 
almost  Oriental,  but  this  had  been  startlingly  dispelled  at 
the  lunch-table  by  the  revelation  of  an  animation  and  a 
vitality  which  had  magically  transformed  her.  But  now, 
as  under  the  spell  of  a  new  encompassment  of  her  own 
weaving,  she  seemed  to  revert  to  her  former  self,  sinking, 
relaxed,  into  a  wicker  lounge  beside  the  basin,  one  long 
and  shapely  hand  in  the  water,  the  other  idle  in  her  lap. 
Her  eyes,  he  remarked,  were  the  contradiction  in  her  face. 
Had  they  been  larger,  and  almond-shaped,  the  illusion 
might  have  been  complete.  They  were  neither  opaque  nor 
smouldering,  —  but  Western  eyes,  amber-coloured,  with 
delicately  stencilled  rays  and  long  lashes.  And  as  they 
gazed  up  at  him  now  they  seemed  to  reflect,  without 
disclosing  the  flitting  thoughts  behind  them.  He  felt 
antagonism  and  attraction  in  almost  equal  degree  —  the 
situation  transcended  his  experience. 

"  You  don't  intend  to  change  this  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an 
expressive  sweep  of  his  hand. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I've  always  liked  it.  Tell  me  what 
you  feel  about  it." 

He  hesitated. 

"  You  resent  it,"  she  declared. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  demanded  quickly. 

"  I  feel  it,"  she  answered  calmly,  but  with  a  smile. 

" 4  Resent '  would  scarcely  be  the  proper  word,"  he  con 
tended,  returning  her  smile,  yet  hesitating  again. 

"  You  think  it  pagan,"  she  told  him. 

"  Perhaps  I  do,"  he  answered  simply,  as  though  im 
pressed  by  her  felicitous  discovery  of  the  adjective. 

Alison  laughed. 

"It's  pagan  because  I'm  pagan,  I  suppose." 

"It's  very  beautiful  —  you  have  managed  to  get  an 
extraordinary  atmosphere,"  he  continued,  bent  on  doing 
himself  an  exact  justice.  "13ut  I  should  say,  if  you 


—    r 

THE  DIVINE  DISCONTENT  127 

pressed  me,  that  it  represents  to  me  the  deification  of 
beauty  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  You  have  made 
beauty  the  Alpha  and  Omega." 

"  There  is  nothing  else  for  me,"  she  said. 

The  coffee-tray  arrived  and  was  deposited  on  a  wicker 
table  beside  her.  She  raised  herself  on  an  elbow,  filled 
his  cup  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"  And  yet,"  he  persisted,  "  from  the  manner  in  which 
you  spoke  at  the  table " 

"  Oh,  don't  imagine  I  haven't  thought !  But  thinking 
isn't  —  believing. " 

"No,"  he  admitted,  with  a  touch  of  sadness,  "you  are 
right.  There  were  certain  comments  you  made  on  the 
Christian  religion " 

She  interrupted  him  again. 

"As  to  the  political  side  of  it,  which  is  Socialism, — 
so  far  as  I  can  see.  If  there  is  any  other  side,  I  have 
never  been  able  to  discover  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
Christians  were  logical,  they  should  be  Socialists.  The 
brotherhood  of  man,  cooperation  —  all  that  is  Socialism, 
isn't  it?  It's  opposed  to  the  principle  of  the  survival  of 
the  fittest,  which  so  many  of  these  so-called  Christians 
practise.  I  used  to  think,  when  I  came  back  from  Paris, 
that  I  was  a  Socialist,  and  I  went  to  a  lot  of  their  meet 
ings  in  New  York,  and  to  lectures.  But  after  a  while  1^ 
saw  there  was  something  in  Socialism  that  didn't  appeal  / 
to  me,  something  smothering,  —  a  forced  cooperation  that_J 
did  not  leave  one  free.  I  wanted  to  be  free,  I've  been 
striving  all  my  life  to  be  free,"  she  exclaimed  passionately, 
and  was  silent  an  instant,  inspecting  him.  "  Perhaps  I 
owe  you  an  apology  for  speaking  as  I  did  before  a  clergy 
man —  especially  before  an  honest  one." 

He  passed  over  the  qualification  with  a  characteristic 
smile. 

"  Oh,  if  we  are  going  to  shut  our  ears  to  criticism  we'd 
better  give  up  being  clergymen,"  he  answered.  "I'm 
afraid  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  said." 

"  That's  generous  of  you  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  thrilled 
him  with  the  tribute.  Nor  was  the  tribute  wholly  in  the 


128  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

words :  there  had  come  spontaneously  into  her  voice  an 
exquisite,  modulated  note  that  haunted  him  long  after  it 
had  died  away.  .  .  . 

"  I  had  to  say  what  I  thought,"  she  continued  earnestly ; 
"  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could.  Perhaps  you  didn't  realize 
it,  but  my  father  was  striking  at  me  when  he  referred  to 
your  sermon,  and  spiritual  control  —  and  in  other  things 
he  said  when  you  were  talking  about  the  settlement-house. 
He  reserves  for  himself  the  right  to  do  as  he  pleases,  but 
insists  that  those  who  surround  him  shall  adopt  the  sub 
serviency  which  he  thinks  proper  for  the  rest  of  the  world. 
If  he  were  a  Christian  himself,  I  shouldn't  mind  it  so 
much." 

Hodder  was  silent.  The  thought  struck  him  with  the 
force  of  a  great  wind. 

"  He's  a  Pharisee,"  Alison  went  on,  following  the  train 
of  her  thought.  "  I  remember  the  first  time  I  discovered 
that  —  it  was  when  I  was  reading  the  New  Testament 
carefully,  in  the  hope  of  finding  something  in  Christian 
ity  I  might  take  hold  of.  And  I  was  impressed  particu 
larly  by  the  scorn  with  which  Christ  treated  the  Pharisees. 
My  father,  too,  if  he  had  lived  in  those  days,  would  have 
thought  Christ  a  seditious  person,  an  impractical,  fanat 
ical  idealist,  and  would  have  tried  to  trip  him  up  with 
literal  questions  concerning  the  law.  His  real  and  pri 
mary  interest  is  in  a  social  system  that  benefits  himself 
and  his  kind,  and  because  this  is  so,  he,  and  men  like  him, 
would  have  it  appear  that  Christianity  is  on  the  side  of 
what  they  term  law  and  order.  I  do  not  say  that  they 
are  hypocritical,  that  they  reason  this  out.  They  are 
elemental ;  and  they  feel  intuitively  that  Christianity 
contains  a  vital  spark  which,  if  allowed  to  fly,  would  start 
a  conflagration  beyond  their  control.  The  theologians 
have  helped  them  to  cover  the  spark  with  ashes,  and 
naturally  they  won't  allow  the  ashes  to  be  touched,  if 
they  can  help  it." 

She  lay  very  still. 

The  rector  had  listened  to  her,  at  first  with  amazement, 
then  with  more  complicated  sensations  as  she  thus  dis< 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  129 

passionately  discussed  the  foremost  member  of  his  con- 
grogation  and  the  first  layman  of  the  diocese,  who  was 
incidentally  her  own  father.  In  her  masterly  analysis  of 
Eldon  Parr,  she  had  brought  Hodder  face  to  face  with  the 
naked  truth,  and  compelled  him  to  recognize  it.  How 
could  he  attempt  to  refute  it,  with  honesty? 

He  remembered  Mr.  Parr's  criticism  of  Alison.  There 
had  been  hardness  in  that,  though  it  were  the  cry  of  a 
lacerated  paternal  affection.  In  that,  too,  a  lack  of  com 
prehension,  an  impotent  anger  at  a  visitation  not  under 
stood,  a  punishment  apparently  unmerited.  Hodder  had 
pitied  him  then — he  still  pitied  him.  In  the  daughter's 
voice  was  no  trace  of  resentment.  .  .  .  No  one,  seem 
ingly,  could  be  farther  removed  from  him  (the  rector  of 
St.  John's)  in  her  opinions  and  views  of  life,  than  Alison 
Parr ;  and  yet  he  felt  in  her  an  undercurrent,  deep  and 
strong,  which  moved  him  strangely,  strongly,  irresistibly; 
he  recognized  a  passionate  desire  for  the  truth,  and  the 
courage  to  face  it  at  any  cost,  and  a  capacity  for  tender 
ness,  revealed  in  flashes. 

"  I  have  hurt  you,"  she  exclaimed.     "  I  am  sorry." 

He  collected  himself. 

"  It  is  not  you  who  have  hurt  me,"  he  replied.  "  Re 
flections  on  the  contradictions  and  imperfections  of  life 
are  always  painful.  And  since  I  have  been  here,  I  have 
seen  a  great  deal  of  your  father." 

"  You  are  fond  of  him  !  " 

He  hesitated.  It  was  not  an  ordinary  conversation  — 
they  were  dealing  with  realities,  and  he  had  a  sense  that 
vital  issues  were  at  stake.  He  had,  in  that  moment,  to 
make  a  revaluation  of  his  sentiments  for  the  financier  — 
to  weigh  the  effect  of  her  indictment. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  slowly,  "I  am  fond  of  him.  He 
has  shown  me  a  side  of  himself,  perhaps,  that  other  men 
have  not  seen,  —  and  he  is  very  lonely." 

"  You  pity  him."  He  started  at  her  word.  "  I  guessed 
that  from  an  expression  that  crossed  your  face  when  we 
were  at  the  table.  But  surely  you  must  have  observed 
the  incongruity  of  his  relationship  with  your  Church  I 


130  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Surely,  in  preaching  as  you  did  this  morning  against 
materialism,  individualism,  absorption  in  the  pursuit  ot 
wealth,  you  must  have  had  my  father  in  mind  as  the 
supreme  example  !  And  yet  he  listened  to  you  as 
serenely  as  though  he  had  never  practised  any  of  these 
things ! 

"  Clergymen  wonder  why  Christianity  doesn't  make 
more  progress  to-day  ;  well,  what  strikes  the  impartial 
observer  who  thinks  about  the  subject  at  all,  as  one  reason, 
is  the  paralyzing  inconsistency  of  an  alliance  between 
those  who  preach  the  brotherhood  of  man  and  those  who 
are  opposed  to  it.  I've  often  wondered  what  clergymen 
would  say  about  it,  if  they  were  frank — only  I  never  see 
any  clergymen." 

He  was  strongly  agitated.  He  did  not  stop  — 
strangely  enough  — to  reflect  how  far  they  had  gone, 
to  demand  by  what  right  she  brought  him  to  the 
bar,  challenged  the  consistency  of  his  life.  .  For  she  had 
struck,  with  a  ruthless  precision,  at  the  very  core  of  his 
trouble,  revealed  it  for  what  it  was. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  can  see  how  we  may  be  accused  of 
inconsistency,  and  with  much  justice." 

His  refusal  to  excuse  and  vindicate  himself  impressed 
her  as  no  attempt  at  extenuation  could  have  done.  Per 
haps,  in  that  moment,  her  quick  instinct  divined  some 
thing  of  his  case,  something  of  the  mental  suffering  he 
strove  to  conceal.  Contrition  shone  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  that,"  she  exclaimed  gently  ^ 
"  It  is  so  easy  for  outsiders  to  criticize  those  who  are  sin 
cere — and  I  am  sure  you  are.  We  cannot  know  all  the 
perplexities.  But  when  we  look  at  the  Church,  we  are 
puzzled  by  that — which  I  have  mentioned — and  by  other 
things." 

"  What  other  things  ?  "  he  demanded. 

She  hesitated  in  her  turn. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  it  odd,  my  having  gone  to  church, 
feeling  as  I  do,"  she  said.  "But  St.  John's  is  now  the 
only  place  vividly  associated  with  my  mother.  She  was 
never  at  home  here,  in  this  house.  I  always  go  at  least 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  131 

once  when  I  am  out  here.  And  I  listened  to  your  sermon 
intently." 

"Yes." 

"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  this  :  you  interested  me  as  I  had 
not  been  interested  since  I  was  twenty,  when  I  made  a 
desperate  attempt  to  become  a  Christian — and  failed. 
Do  you  know  how  you  struck  me  ?  It  was  as  a  man  who 
actually  had  a  great  truth  which  he  was  desperately  trying 
to  impart,  and  could  not.  I  have  not  been  in  a  church 
more  than  a  dozen  times  in  the  last  eight  years,  but  you 
impressed  me  as  a  man  who  felt  something — whatever 
it  is." 

He  did  not  speak. 

"  But  why,"  she  cried,  "  do  you  insist  on  what  you  call 
authority  ?  As  a  modern  woman  who  has  learned  to  use 
her  own  mind,  I  simply  can't  believe,  if  the  God  of  the 
universe  is  the  moral  God  you  assert  him  to  be,  that  he 
has  established  on  earth  an  agency  of  the  kind  you  infer, 
and  delegated  to  it  the  power  of  life  and  death  over  hu 
man  souls.  Perhaps  you  do  not  go  so  far,  but  if  you 
make  the  claim  at  all  you  must  make  it  in  its  entirety. 
There  is  an  idea  of  commercialism,  of  monopoly  in  that 
conception  which  is  utterly  repugnant  to  any  one  who 
tries  to  approach  the  subject  with  a  fresh  mind,  and  from 
an  ideal  point  of  view.  And  religion  must  be  idealism  — 
mustn't  it? 

"  Your  ancient  monks  and  saints  weren't  satisfied  until 
they  had  settled  every  detail  of  the  invisible  world,  of  the 
past  and  future.  They  mapped  it  out  as  if  it  were  a 
region  they  had  actually  explored,  like  geographers. 
They  used  their  reason,  and  what  science  they  had,  to 
make  theories  about  it  which  the  churches  still  proclaim 
as  the  catholic  and  final  truth.  You  forbid  us  to  use  our 
reason.  You  declare,  in  order  to  become  Christians,  that 
we  have  to  accept  authoritative  statements.  Oh,  can't 
you  see  that  an  authoritative  statement  is  just  what  an 
ethical  person  doesn't  want?  Belief — faith  doesn't  con 
sist  in  the  mere  acceptance  of  a  statement,  but  in  some 
thing  much  higher — if  we  can  achieve  it.  Acceptance 


132  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

of  authority  is  not  faith,  it  is  mere  credulity,  it  is  to 
shirk  the  real  issue.  We  must  believe,  if  we  believe  at 
all,  without  authority.  If  we  knew,  there  would  be  no 
virtue  in  striving.  If  I  choose  a  God,"  she  added,  after  a 
pause,  "  I  cannot  take  a  consensus  of  opinion  about  him, 
—  he  must  be  my  God." 

Hodder  did  not  speak  immediately.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  he  had  never  heard  the  argument,  and  the 
strength  of  it,  reenforced  by  the  extraordinary  vitality 
and  earnestness  of  the  woman  who  had  uttered  it, 
had  a  momentary  stunning  effect.  He  sat  contemplating 
her  as  she  lay  back  among  the  cushions,  and  suddenly 
he  seemed  to  see  in  her  the  rebellious  child  of  which 
her  father  had  spoken.  No  wonder  Eldon  Parr  had 
misunderstood  her,  had  sought  to  crush  her  spirit ! 
She  was  to  be  dealt  with  in  no  common  way,  nor  was  the 
consuming  yearning  he  discerned  in  her  to  be  lightly 
satisfied. 

"  The  God  of  the  individualist,"  he  said  at  length  — 
musingly,  not  accusingly. 

"  I  am  an  individualist,"  she  admitted  simply.  "  But  I 
am  at  least  logical  in  that  philosophy,  and  the  individual 
ists  who  attend  the  churches  to-day  are  not.  The  incon 
sistency  of  their  lives  is  what  makes  those  of  us  who  do 
not  go  to  church  doubt  the  efficacy  of  their  creed,  which 
seems  to  have  no  power  to  change  them.  The  majority 
of  people  in  St.  John's  are  no  more  Christians  than  I  am. 
They  attend  service  once  a  week,  and  the  rest  of  the 
time  they  are  bent  upon  getting  all  they  can  of  pleasure 
and  profit  for  themselves.  Do  you  wonder  that  those 
who  consider  this  spectacle  come  inevitably  to  the  con 
clusion  that  either  Christianity  is  at  fault,  is  outworn,  or 
else  that  it  is  presented  in  the  wrong  way  ?" 

The  rector  rose  abruptly,  walked  to  the  entrance  of  the 
arbour,  and  stood  staring  out  across  the  garden.  Presently 
he  turned  and  came  back  and  stood  over  her. 

"  Since  you  ask  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  do  not  wonder 
at  it." 

She  raised  her  eyes  swiftly. 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  133 

"  When  you  speak  like  that,"  she  exclaimed  with  an 
enthusiasm  that  stirred  him,  despite  the  trouble  of  his 
mind,  "I  cannot  think  of  you  as  a  clergyman, — but  as  a 
man.  Indeed,"  she  added,  in  the  surprise  of  her  discov 
ery,  "  I  have  never  thought  of  you  as  a  clergyman  —  even 
when  I  first  saw  you  this  morning.  I  could  not  account 
then  for  a  sense  of  duality  about  you  that  puzzled  me. 
Do  you  always  preach  as  earnestly  as  that  ?  " 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  I  felt  as  if  you  were  throwing  your  whole  soul  into 
the  effort — oh,  I  felt  it  distinctly.  You  made  some  of 
them,  temporarily,  a  little  uncomfortable,  but  they  do  not 
understand  you,  and  you  didn't  change  them.  It  seemed 
to  me  you  realized  this  when  Gordon  Atterbury  spoke  to 
you.  I  tried  to  analyze  the  effect  on  myself — if  it  had 
been  in  the  slightest  degree  possible  for  my  reason  to 
accept  what  you  said  you  might,  through  sheer  person 
ality,  have  compelled  me  to  reconsider.  As  it  was,  I 
found  myself  resisting  you." 

With  his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  he  paced  across 
the  arbour  and  back  again. 

"  Have  you  ever  definitely  and  sincerely  tried  to  put 
what  the  Church  teaches  into  practice  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Orthodox  Christianity  ?  penance,  asceticism,  self-ab 
negation  —  repression  —  falling  on  my  knees  and  seeking 
a  forgiveness  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  trespass,  and 
filled  with  a  sense  of  total  depravity  ?  If  I  did  that  I 
should  lose  myself — the  only  valuable  thing  I've  got." 

Hodder,  who  had  resumed  his  pacing,  glanced  at  her 
involuntarily,  and  fought  an  inclination  to  agree  with  her. 

"  I  see  no  one  upon  whom  I  can  rely  but  myself,"  she 
went  on  with  the  extraordinary  energy  she  was  able  to 
summon  at  will,  "  and  I  am  convinced  that  self-sacrifice 
—  at  least,  indiscriminate,  unreasoning  self-sacrifice  —  is 
worse  than  useless,  and  to  teach  it  is  criminal  ignorance. 
None  of  the  so-called  Christian  virtues  appeals  to  me: 
I  hate  humility.  You  haven't  it.  The  only  happiness 
I  can  see  in  the  world  lies  in  self-expression,  and  I  cer 
tainly  shouldn't  find  that  in  sewing  garments  for  the  poor. 


134  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

The  last  thing  that  I  could  wish  for  would  be  immortality 
as  orthodox  Christianity  depicts  it  !  And  suppose  I  had 
followed  the  advice  of  my  Christian  friends  and  remained 
here,  where  they  insisted  my  duty  was,  what  would  have 
happened  to  me  ?  In  a  senseless  self-denial  I  should 
gradually  have  withered  into  a  meaningless  old  maid, 
with  no  opinions  of  my  own,  and  no  more  definite  purpose 
in  life  than  to  write  checks  for  charities.  Your  Christi 
anity  commands  that  women  shall  stay  at  home,  and 
declares  that  they  are  not  entitled  to  seek  their  own  sal 
vation,  to  have  any  place  in  affairs,  or  to  meddle  with 
the  realm  of  the  intellect.  Those  forbidden  gardens  are 
reserved  for  the  lordly  sex.  St.  Paul,  you  say,  put  us 
in  our  proper  place  some  twenty  centuries  ago,  and  we 
are  to  remain  there  for  all  time." 

He  felt  sweeping  through  him  the  reverse  current  of 
hostility. 

"  And  what  I  preach,"  he  asked,  "  has  tended  to  con 
firm  you  in  such  a  mean  conception  of  Christianity  ?  " 

Her  eye  travelled  over  the  six  feet  of  him  —  the  kin 
dling,  reflecting  eye  of  the  artist ;  it  rested  for  a  moment 
on  the  protesting  locks  of  his  hair,  which  apparently 
could  not  be  cut  short  enough  to  conform  ;  on  the  hands, 
which  were  strong  and  sinewy;  on  the  wide,  tolerant 
mouth,  with  its  rugged  furrows,  on  the  breadth  and 
height  of  the  forehead.  She  lay  for  a  moment,  inert, 
considering. 

"  What  you  preach  —  yes,"  she  answered,  bravely  meet 
ing  his  look.  "What  you  are  —  no.  You  and  your 
religion  are  as  far  apart  as  the  poles.  Oh,  this  old  argu 
ment,  the  belief  that  has  been  handed  down  to  the  man, 
the  authority  with  which  he  is  clothed,  and  not  the  man 
himself  !  How  can  one  be  a  factor  in  life  unless  one 
represents  something  which  is  the  fruit  of  actual,  personal 
experience  ?  Your  authority  is  for  the  weak,  the  timid, 
the  credulous,  —  for  those  who  do  not  dare  to  trust  them 
selves,  who  run  for  shelter  from  the  storms  of  life  to  a 
papier-mdcht  fortress,  made  to  look  like  rock.  In  order 
to  preach  that  logically  you  should  be  a  white  ascetic, 


THE   DIVINE   DISCONTENT  135 

with  a  well-oiled  manner,  a  downcast  look  lest  you 
stumble  in  your  pride;  lest  by  chance  you  might  do 
something  original  that  sprang  out  of  your  own  soul 
instead  of  being  an  imitation  of  the  saints.  And  if  your 
congregation  took  your  doctrine  literally,  I  can  see  a 
whole  army  of  white,  meek  Christians.  But  you  are  not 
like  that.  Can't  you  see  it  for  yourself  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Can't  you.  feel  that  you  are  an  individual,  a  personality, 
a  force  that  might  be  put  to  great  uses  ?  That  will  be 
because  you  are  open-minded,  because  there  is  room  in 
you  for  growth  and  change  ?  " 

He  strove  with  all  his  might  to  quell  the  inner  con 
flagration  which  she  had  fanned  into  leaping  flames. 
Though  he  had  listened  before  to  doubt  and  criticism, 
this  woman,  with  her  strange  shifting  moods  of  calm  and 
passion,  with  her  bewildering  faculty  of  changing  from 
passive  to  active  resistance,  her  beauty  (once  manifest, 
never  to  be  forgotten),  her  unique  individuality  that  now 
attracted,  now  repelled,  seemed  for  the  moment  the  very 
incarnation  of  the  forces  opposed  to  him  and  his  religion. 
Hodder,  as  he  looked  at  her,  had  a  flash  of  fierce  resent 
ment  that  now,  of  all  times,  she  should  suddenly  have 
flung  herself  across  his  path.  For  she  was  to  be  reckoned 
with.  Why  did  he  not  tell  her  she  was  an  egoist  ?  Why 
didn't  he  speak  out,  defend  his  faith,  denounce  her  views 
as  prejudiced  and  false? 

"  Have  I  made  you  angry  ?  "  he  heard  her  say.  "  I  am 
sorry." 

It  was  the  hint  of  reproach  in  her  tone  to  which  the 
man  in  him  instantly  responded.  And  what  he  saw  now 
was  his  portrait  she  had  painted.  The  thought  came  to 
him  :  was  he  indeed  greater,  more  vital  than  the  religion 
he  professed  ?  God  forbid !  Did  he  ring  true,  and  it 
false? 

She  returned  his  gaze.  And  gradually,  under  her  clear 
olive  skin,  he  saw  the  crimson  colour  mounting  higher. 
.  .  .  She  put  forth  her  hand,  simply,  naturally,  and 
pressed  his  own,  as  though  they  had  been  friends  for  a 
lifetime. 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE    CHURCH 


THE  annual  scourge  of  summer  had  descended  pitilessly 
upon  the  city  once  more,  enervating,  depressing,  stagnat 
ing,  and  people  moved  languidly  in  the  penetrating  heat 
that  steamed  from  the  pores  of  the  surrounding  river  bot 
toms. 

The  rector  of  St.  John's  realized  that  a  crisis  had  come 
in  his  life,  —  a  crisis  he  had  tried  to  stave  off  in  vain. 
And  yet  there  was  a  period  during  which  he  pursued  his 
shrunken  duties  as  though  nothing  had  happened  to  him  ; 
as  a  man  who  has  been  struck  in  battle  keeps  on,  loath  to 
examine,  to  acknowledge  the  gravity  of  his  wound  ;  fear 
ing  to,  perhaps.  Sometimes,  as  his  mind  went  back  to 
the  merciless  conflict  of  his  past,  his  experience  at  the  law 
school,  it  was  the  unchaining  of  that  other  man  he  dreaded, 
the  man  he  believed  himself  to  have  finally  subdued.  But 
night  and  day  he  was  haunted  by  the  sorrowful  and  re 
proachful  face  of  Truth. 

Had  he  the  courage,  now,  to  submit  the  beliefs  which 
had  sustained  him  all  these  years  to  Truth's  inexorable 
inspection?  Did  he  dare  to  turn  and  open  those  books 
which  she  had  inspired,  —  the  new  philosophies,  the  his 
torical  criticisms  which  he  had  neglected  and  condemned, 
which  he  had  flattered  himself  he  could  do  without,  —  and 
read  of  the  fruit  of  Knowledge  ?  Twice,  thrice  he  had 
hesitated  on  the  steps  of  the  big  library,  and  turned 
away  with  a  wildly  beating  heart. 

Day  by  day  the  storm  increased,  until  from  a  cloud  on 
the  horizon  it  grew  into  a  soul-shaking  tempest.  Pro- 

136 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHUECH          137 

foundly  moved  as  he  had  been  on  that  Sunday  afternoon 
in  Eldon  Parr's  garden,  he  had  resolutely  resolved  to 
thrust  the  woman  and  the  incident  from  his  mind,  to  defer 
the  consideration  of  the  questions  she  had  raised  —  grave 
though  they  were  —  to  a  calmer  period.  For  now  he  was 
unable  to  separate  her,  to  eliminate  the  emotion — he  was 
forced  to  acknowledge  —  the  thought  of  her  aroused,  from 
the  problems  themselves.  Who  was  she?  At  moments 
he  seemed  to  see  her  shining,  accusing,  as  Truth  herself, 
and  again  as  a  Circe  who  had  drawn  him  by  subtle  arts 
from  his  wanderings,  luring  him  to  his  death  ;  or,  at  other 
times,  as  the  mutinous  daughter  of  revolt.  But  when  he 
felt,  in  memory,  the  warm  touch  of  her  hand,  the  old  wild- 
ness  of  his  nature  responded,  he  ceased  to  speculate  or 
care,  and  he  longed  only  to  crush  and  subdue  her  by  the 
brute  power  of  the  man  in  him.  For  good  or  bad,  she  had 
woven  her  spell. 

Here  was  the  old,  elemental,  twofold  contest,  carnal  and 
spiritual,  thoroughly  revived !  .  .  . 

He  recalled,  in  his  musings,  the  little  theological  school 
surrounded  by  southern  woods  and  fields,  where  he  had 
sometime  walked  under  autumn  foliage  with  the  elderly 
gentleman  who  had  had  such  an  influence  on  his  life  — 
the  dean.  Mild-mannered  and  frail,  patient  in  ordinary 
converse,  —  a  lion  for  the  faith.  He  would  have  died  for 
it  as  cheerfully  as  any  martyr  in  history.  By  the  mar 
vels  of  that  faith  Hodder  had  beheld,  from  his  pew  in  the 
chapel,  the  little  man  transformed.  He  knew  young  men, 
their  perplexities  and  temptations,  and  he  dealt  with  them 
personally,  like  a  father.  Hodder's  doubts  were  stilled, 
he  had  gained  power  of  his  temptations  and  peace  for  his 
soul,  and  he  had  gone  forth  inspired  by  the  reminder  that 
there  was  no  student  of  whom  the  dean  expected  better 
things.  Where  now  were  the  thousands  of  which  he  had 
dreamed,  and  which  he  was  to  have  brought  into  the 
Church?  .  .  . 

Now,  he  asked  himself,  was  it  the  dean,  or  the  dean's 
theology  through  which  his  regeneration  had  come  ? 
Might  not  the  inherent  goodness  of  the  dean  be  one 


138  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

thing,  and  his  theology  quite  another?  Personality 
again !  He  recalled  one  of  the  many  things  which  Alison 
Parr  had  branded  on  his  memory,  — "  the  belief,  the 
authority  in  which  the  man  is  clothed,  and  not  the  man !  " 
The  dean's  God  had  remained  silent  on  the  subject  of 
personality.  Or,  at  the  best,  he  had  not  encouraged  it ; 
and  there  were  —  Hodder  could  not  but  perceive  —  certain 
contradictions  in  his  character,  which  were  an  anomalistic 
blending  of  that  of  the  jealous  God  of  Moses  and  of  the 
God  of  Christ.  There  must  be  continuity  —  God  could 
not  change.  Therefore  the  God  of  infinite  love  must 
retain  the  wrath  which  visited  sins  of  the  fathers  on  the 
children,  which  demanded  sacrifice,  atonement,  —  an  exact 
propitiation  for  his  auger  against  mankind.  An  innocent 
life  of  sorrow  and  suffering  ! 

And  again,  "  You  and  your  religion  are  as  far  apart  as 
the  poles  !  "  Had  he,  Hodder,  outgrown  the  dean's  re 
ligion,  or  had  it  ever  been  his  own?  Was  there,  after  all, 
such  a  thing  as  religion  ?  Might  it  not  be  merely  a  fig 
ment  of  the  fertile  imagination  of  man  ?  He  did  not 
escape  the  terror  of  this  thought  when  he  paused  to  con 
sider  his  labour  of  the  past  two  years  and  the  vanity  of  its 
results.  And  little  by  little  the  feeling  grew  upon  him, 
such  being  the  state  of  his  mind,  that  he  ought  not  to 
continue,  for  the  present  at  least,  to  conduct  the  services. 
Should  he  resign,  or  go  away  for  a  while  to  some  quiet 
place  before  he  made  such  a  momentous  decision  ?  There 
was  no  one  to  whom  he  could  turn ;  no  layman,  and  no 
clergyman  ;  not  even  the  old  bishop,  whom  he  had  more 
than  once  mentally  accused  of  being  too  broad  and  too 
tolerant  !  No,  he  did  not  wish  a  clergyman's  solution. 
The  significance  of  this  thought  flashed  through  him  — 
that  the  world  itself  was  no  longer  seeking  clergymen's 
solutions.  He  must  go  off  alone,  and  submit  his  faith  to 
the  impartial  test. 

It  was  in  a  vigil  of  the  night,  when  he  lay  in  the  hot 
darkness,  unable  to  sleep,  that  he  came  at  length  to  this 
resolve.  And  now  that  he  had  cut  the  knot  he  was  too 
just  to  blame  Alison  Parr  for  having  pointed  out  —  with 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHUKCH          139 

what  often  had  seemed  a  pitiless  cruelty  —  something  of 
which  he  had  had  a  constantly  growing  perception  yet 
had  continually  sought  to  evade.  And  he  reviewed,  as 
the  church  bells  recorded  the  silent  hours,  how,  little  by 
little,  his  confidence  had  crumbled  before  the  shocks  of 
the  successive  revelations  —  some  of  them  so  slight  that 
they  had  passed  unnoticed  :  comparisons,  inevitably  com 
pelled  ;  Dalton  Street ;  the  confessions  of  Eleanor  Good 
rich  and  Mrs.  Constable  ;  Mr.  Plimpton  and  his  views  of 
life  —  Eldon  Parr  !  Even  the  slamming  of  the  carriage 
doors  in  Burton  Street  had  had  a  significance  ! 

Might  it  not  prove  that  this  woman  had  let  fall  into  the 
turbid  waters  of  his  soul  the  drop  that  was  to  clear  them 
forever?  He  would  go  away.  He  would  not  see  her 
again. 

Over  the  sleeping  city,  unapprehended,  stole  the  dawn. 

He  arose,  but  instead  of  falling  on  his  knees  he  went  to 
the  window  and  lifted  his  face  to  the  whitening  sky.  .  .  . 
Slowly  out  of  the  obscurity  of  the  earth's  shadow  emerged 
the  vague  outlines  of  familiar  things  until  they  stood 
sharply  material,  in  a  silence  as  of  death.  A  sparrow 
twittered,  and  suddenly  the  familiar,  soot-grimed  roofs 
were  bathed  in  light,  and  by  a  touch  made  beautiful.  .  .  . 

Some  hours  later  the  city  was  wide  awake.  And  Hod- 
der,  bathed  and  dressed,  stood  staring  down  from  his 
study  window  into  the  street  below,  full  now  of  young 
men  and  girls  ;  some  with  set  faces,  hurrying,  intent, 
others  romping  and  laughing  as  they  dodged  the  trucks 
and  trolley  cars  ;  all  on  their  way  to  the  great  shoe  factory 
around  the  corner,  the  huge  funnels  of  which  were  belch 
ing  forth  smoke  into  the  morning  air.  The  street  emptied, 
a  bell  rang,  a  whistle  blew,  the  hum  of  distant  machinery 
began.  .  .  . 

II 

Later  that  morning  Hodder  sat  in  his  study.  The 
shutters  were  closed,  and  the  intensity  of  the  tropical 
glare  without  was  softened  and  diffused  by  the  slanting 


140  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

green  slats.  His  eye  wandered  over  the  long  and  com 
fortable  room  which  had  been  his  sanctuary  in  the  feverish 
days  of  his  ministry,  resting  affectionately  on  the  hos 
pitable  chairs,  the  wide  fireplace  before  which  he  had 
been  wont  to  settle  himself  on  winter  nights,  and  even  on 
the  green  matting  —  a  cooling  note  in  summer.  And 
there,  in  the  low  cases  along  the  walls,  were  the  rows  of 
his  precious  books,  —  his  one  hobby  and  extravagance. 
He  had  grown  to  love  the  room.  Would  he  ever  come 
back  to  it  ? 

A  step  sounded  in  the  hall,  a  knock,  and  the  well- 
known  gaunt  form  and  spectacled  face  of  McCrae  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"  Ye  wished  to  see  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  McCrae,"  said  the  rector,  "  I  am  going  off  for  a 
while." 

His  assistant  regarded  him  a  moment  in  silence.  Al 
though  Hodder  had  no  intention  of  explaining  his  rea 
sons,  he  had  a  curious  conviction  that  it  were  superfluous 
to  do  so,  that  McCrae  had  guessed  them. 

"  Why  shouldn't  ye  ?  There's  but  a  handful  left  to 
preach  to  in  this  weather." 

"I  wouldn't  go,  in  this  sudden  way,  if  it  were  not  — 
imperative,"  Hodder  added,  trying  to  speak  calmly. 

"  Why  shouldn't  ye?  "  McCrae  repeated,  almost  fiercely. 

Hodder  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  There's  no  reason,"  he  said,  "  except  the  added  work 
put  on  you  without  warning,  and  in  this  heat." 

"  Ye'll  not  need  to  worry,"  his  assistant  assured  him, 
"  the  heat's  nothing  to  me."  McCrae  hesitated,  and  then 
demanded  abruptly,  "  Ye'll  not  be  visiting  ?  " 

The  question  took  Hodder  by  surprise. 

"  No,"  he  answered  quickly,  and  not  quite  steadily,  and 
hesitated  in  his  turn,  "  I  shan't  be  visiting." 

"  It's  a  rest  ye  need,  I've  been  wanting  to  say  it." 
McCrae  took  a  step  forward,  and  for  a  moment  it  seemed 
as  though  he  were  at  last  about  to  break  the  bonds  of  his 
reserve.  Perhaps  he  detected  an  instinctive  shrinking  on 
the  rector's  part.  At  any  rate,  there  was  another  instant 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHURCH          141 

of  silence,  in  which  the  two  men  faced  each  other  across 
the  desk,  and  McCrae  held  out  his  hand.  "  Good  luck  to 
ye,"  he  said,  as  Hodder  took  it,  "  and  don't  have  the  parish 
on  your  mind.  Stay  till  ye're  rested,  arid  come  back  to 


us." 


He  left  the  room  abruptly.  Hodder  remained  motion 
less,  looking  after  him,  and  then,  moved  apparently  by  a 
sudden  impulse,  started  toward  the  door, — only  to  halt 
and  turn  before  he  got  to  it.  Almost  he  had  opened  his 
lips  to  call  his  assistant  back.  He  could  not  do  it  —  the 
moment  had  come  and  fled  when  it  might  have  been  pos 
sible.  Did  this  man  hide,  under  his  brusqueness  and  brevity 
of  speech,  the  fund  of  wisdom  and  the  wider  sympathy  and 
understanding  he  suspected  ?  Hodder  could  have  vouched 
for  it,  and  yet  he  had  kept  his  own  counsel.  And  he  was 
struck  suddenly  by  the  significance  of  the  fact,  often  re 
marked,  that  McCrae  in  his  brief  and  common-sense  and 
by  no  means  enlivening  sermons  had  never  once  referred 
in  any  way  to  doctrine  or  dogma! 

He  spent  half  an  hour  in  collecting  and  bestowing  in 
two  large  valises  such  articles  as  his  simple  needs  would 
demand,  and  then  set  out  for  a  railroad  office  in  the  busi 
ness  portion  of  the  city,  where  he  bought  his  ticket  and 
berth.  Then,  after  a  moment  of  irresolution  on  the  thresh 
old  of  the  place,  he  turned  to  the  right,  thrusting  his  way 
through  the  sluggish  crowds  on  Tower  Street  until  he 
came  to  the  large  bookstore  where  he  had  been  wont  to 
spend,  from  time  to  time,  some  of  his  leisure  moments. 
A  clerk  recognized  him,  and  was  about  to  lead  the  way  to 
the  rear,  where  the  precious  editions  were  kept,  when 
Hodder  stopped  him. 

In  casting  about  for  a  beginning  in  his  venture  over  un 
known  seas,  there  had  naturally  come  into  his  mind  three 
or  four  works  which  were  anathema  to  the  orthodox;  one 
of  which,  in  seven  volumes,  went  back  to  his  seminary 
days,  and  had  been  the  subject  of  a  ringing,  denunciatory 
sermon  by  the  dean  himself.  Three  of  them  were  by 
Germans  of  established  reputations,  another  by  a  professor 
of  the  University  of  Paris.  The  habit  of  years  is  strong. 


142  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

And  though  he  knew  that  many  clergymen  read  these 
books,  Hodder  found  it  impossible  to  overcome  a  nervous 
sense  of  adventure, — nay  (knowing  his  resolution),  of 
apostasy,  almost  of  clandestine  guilt  when  he  mentioned 
them.  And  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  face  of  the  clerk 
betrayed  surprise.  One  of  the  works  was  not  in  stock  ; 
he  would  send  the  others  that  afternoon.  Mr.  Hodder 
would  take  them  ?  They  made  a  formidable  parcel,  but 
a  little  handle  was  supplied  and  the  rector  hurried  out, 
swinging  himself  on  a  Tower  Street  car. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  the  whole  of  what  is  called 
modern  criticism  was  new  to  Hodder.  This  would  indeed 
be  too  much  of  a  reflection  on  the  open-mindedness  of  the 
seminary  from  which  he  had  graduated.  But  he  found 
himself,  now,  pondering  a  little  cynically  on  that  "  open- 
mindedness";  on  that  concession  —  if  it  had  been  a  con 
cession —  to  the  methods  of  science.  There  had  been  in 
truth  a  course  of  lectures  on  this  subject  ;  but  he  saw 
now,  very  clearly,  what  a  concerted  effort  had  been  put 
forward  in  the  rest  of  the  teaching  to  minimize  and  dis 
credit  it.  Even  the  professor  who  gave  the  lectures  had 
had  the  air  of  deploring  them.  Here  it  is,  but  on  the 
whole  one  would  better  let  it  alone,  —  such  was  the  in 
ference.  And  he  had  let  it  alone,  through  all  these  years. 

In  the  seminary,  too,  volumes  by  semi-learned  clergy 
men  had  been  thrust  into  his  hands,  efforts  which  Hodder 
recalled  now,  in  spite  of  his  mental  state,  with  a  smile. 
These  invariably  championed  the  doctrine  of  the  virgin 
birth  as  the  pillar  on  which  the  Incarnation  depended. 
A  favourite  argument  declared  that  although  the  Gospel 
texts  in  regard  to  it  might  be  proven  untrustworthy,  the 
miraculous  birth  must  have  happened  anyway  !  And 
one  of  these  clerical  authors  whom  he  had  more  recently 
read,  actually  had  had  the  audacity  to  turn  the  weapons 
of  the  archenemy,  science,  back  upon  itself.  The  virgin 
birth  was  an  established  fact  in  nature,  and  had  its  place 
in  the  social  economy  of  the  bee.  And  did  not  partheno 
genesis  occur  in  the  silk  moth  ? 

In  brief,   the   conclusion   impressed   upon  him   by  his 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHURCH  143 

seminary  instruction  was  this  :  that  historical  criticism 
had  corrected  some  ideas  and  put  some  things  in  their 
right  place.  What  these  things  were  remained  sufficiently 
vague.  But  whenever  it  attacked  a  cherished  dogma  it 
was,  on  general  principles,  wrong. 

Once  again  in  his  cool  study,  he  cut  the  cord  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  while  he  was  eating  the  lunch  his 
housekeeper  had  prepared,  dipped  into  one  of  the  larger 
volumes.  As  he  read  again  the  critical  disproofs  he  felt  an 
acute,  almost  physical  pain,  as  though  a  vital  part  of  him 
were  being  cut  away,  as  his  mind  dwelt  upon  those  beauti 
ful  legends  to  which  he  had  so  often  turned,  and  which 
had  seemed  the  very  fountain  of  his  faith.  Legends  !  .  .  . 

He  closed  the  book.  The  clock  on  the  mantel  struck 
three;  his  train  was  to  leave  at  five.  He  rose  and  went 
down  into  the  silent  church  he  had  grown  to  love,  seating 
himself  in  one  of  the  carved  stalls  of  the  choir,  his  eye 
lingering  in  turn  on  each  beautiful  object:  on  the  glowing 
landscape  in  the  window  in  memory  of  Eliza  Parr,  por 
traying  the  delectable  country,  with  the  bewildered  yet  en 
raptured  faces  of  the  pilgrims  in  the  foreground ;  on  the 
graceful,  shining  lectern,  the  aspiring  arches,  the  carved 
marble  altar  behind  the  rail,  and  above  it  the  painting  of 
the  Christ  on  the  cross. 

The  hours  of  greatest  suffering  are  the  empty  hours. 
Eloi,  Eloi,  lama  sabachthani?  The  hours  when  the  myste 
rious  sustaining  and  driving  force  is  withdrawn,  and  a 
lassitude  and  despair  comes  over  us  like  that  of  a  deserted 
child:  the  hours  when  we  feel  we  have  reached  the  limit 
of  service,  when  our  brief  span  of  usefulness  is  done. 
Had  God  brought  him,  John  Hodder,  to  the  height  of  the 
powers  of  his  manhood  only  to  abandon  him,  to  cast  him 
adrift  on  the  face  of  the  waters  —  led  him  to  this  great 
parish,  with  all  its  opportunities,  only  that  he  might  fail 
and  flee? 

He  sat  staring  at  the  face  of  the  Man  on  the  cross.  Did 
he,  in  his  overwrought  state,  imagine  there  an  expression 
he  had  never  before  remarked,  or  had  the  unknown  artist 
of  the  seventies  actually  risen  above  the  mediocrity  of  the 


L 


144  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

figure  in  his  portrayal  of  the  features  of  the  Christ  ?  The 
rector  started,  and  stared  again.  There  was  no  weakness 
in  the  face,  no  meekness,  no  suggestion  of  the  conception 
of  the  sacrificed  Lamb,  no  hint  of  a  beatific  vision  of  open 
ing  heavens  —  and  yet  no  accusation,  no  despair.  A 
knowing  —  that  were  nearer  —  a  knowing  of  all  things 
through  the  experiencing  of  all  things,  the  suffering  of  all 
things.  For  suffering  without  revelation  were  vain,  in 
deed  !  A  perfected  wisdom  that  blended  inevitably  with 
a  transcendent  love.  Love  and  wisdom  were  one,  then? 
To  reach  comprehension  through  conquering  experience 
was  to  achieve  the  love  that  could  exclaim,  "  they  know 
not  what  they  do  !  " 

Human  or  divine?  Man  or  God?  Hodder  found  him 
self  inwardly  repeating  the  words,  the  controversy  which 
had  raged  for  nineteen  hundred  years,  and  not  yet  was 
stilled.  Perfection  is  divine.  Human!  Hodder  re 
peated  the  word,  as  one  groping  on  the  theshold  of  a  great 
discovery.  .  .  . 

m 

He  was  listening  —  he  had  for  a  long  time  been  listen 
ing  to  a  sound  which  had  seemed  only  the  natural  accom 
paniment  of  the  drama  taking  place  in  his  soul,  as  though 
some  inspired  organist  were  expressing  in  exquisite  music 
the  undercurrent  of  his  agony.  Only  gradually  did  he 
become  aware  that  it  arose  from  the  nave  of  the  church, 
and,  turning,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  bowed  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  woman  kneeling  in  one  of  the  pews.  She 
was  sobbing. 

His  movement,  he  recalled  afterward,  did  not  come  of  a 
conscious  volition,  as  he  rose  and  descended  the  chancel 
steps  and  walked  toward  her  ;  he  stood  for  what  seemed 
a  long  time  on  the  white  marble  of  the  aisle  looking  down 
on  her,  his  heart  wrung  by  the  violence  of  her  grief,  which 
at  moments  swept  through  her  like  a  tempest.  She  seemed 
still  young,  but  poverty  had  marked  her  with  unmistak 
able  signs.  The  white,  blue-veined  hands  that  clung  to 


THE   MESSENGER  IN   THE   CHURCH  145 

the  railing  of  the  pew  were  thin  ;  and  the  shirtwaist, 
though  clean,  was  cheap  and  frayed.  At  last  she  rose  from 
her  knees  and  raised  a  tear-stained  face  to  his,  staring  at 
him  in  a  dumb  bewilderment. 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  you?"  he  said  gently,  "I  am 
the  rector  here." 

She  did  not  answer,  but  continued  to  stare  uncompre- 
hendingly.  He  sat  down  beside  her  in  the  pew. 

"  You  are  in  trouble,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  let  me  try 
to  help  you?" 

A  sob  shook  her  —  the  beginning  of  a  new  paroxysm. 
He  waited  patiently  until  it  was  over.  Suddenly  she  got 
rather  wildly  and  unsteadily  to  her  feet. 

"  I  must  go  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  God,  what  would  I  do 
if  —  if  he  wasn't  there?" 

Hodder  rose  too.  She  had  thrust  herself  past  him  into 
the  aisle,  but  if  he  had  not  taken  her  arm  she  would  have 
fallen.  Thus  they  went  together  to  the  door  of  the  church, 
and  out  into  the  white,  burning  sunlight.  In  spite  of  her 
weakness  she  seemed  actually  to  be  leading  him,  impelled 
by  a  strange  force  and  fled  down  the  steps  of  the  porch  to 
the  sidewalk.  And  there  she  paused,  seeing  him  still  be 
side  her.  Fortunately  he  had  his  hat  in  his  hand. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  take  you  home,"  he  replied  firmly,  "  you  ought  not 
to  go  alone." 

A  look  of  something  like  terror  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  she  protested,  with  a  vehemence  that  sur 
prised  him.  "I  am  strong.  Oh,  thank  you,  sir,  —  but  I 
can  go  alone.  It's  Dicky  —  my  little  boy.  I've  never 
left  him  so  long.  I  had  gone  for  the  medicine  and  I  saw 
the  church.  I  used  to  go  to  church,  sir,  before  we  had 
our  troubles  —  and  I  just  went  in.  It  suddenly  came 
over  me  that  God  might  help  me  —  the  doctor  can  do 
nothing." 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said. 

She  ceased  to  resist,  as  one  submitting  to  the  fatality 
of  a  superior  will. 

The  pavements  that  afternoon,  as  Hodder  and  the  forlorn 


146  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

woman  left  the  cool  porticoes  of  St.  John's,  were  like  the 
floor  of  a  stone  oven,  and  the  work  horses  wore  little  bon 
nets  over  their  heads.  Keeping  to  the  shady  side,  the 
rector  and  his  companion  crossed  Tower  Street  with  its 
trolley  cars  and  its  awninged  stores,  and  came  to  that  de 
pressing  district  which  had  reproached  him  since  the  first 
Sunday  of  his  ministry  when  he  had  traversed  it  with 
Eldon  Parr.  They  passed  the  once  prosperous  houses, 
the  corner  saloons  pandering  to  two  vices,  decked  with 
the  flamboyant  signs  of  the  breweries.  The  trees  were 
dying  along  the  asphalt  and  in  the  yards,  the  iron  fences 
broken  here  and  there,  the  copings  stained  with  rust  and 
soot.  Hodder's  thoughts  might  have  been  likened  to  the 
heated  air  that  simmered  above  the  bricks. 

They  were  in  Dalton  Street !  She  seemed  to  have  for 
gotten  his  presence,  her  pace  quickened  as  she  turned  into 
a  gate  and  flew  up  a  flight  of  dirty  stone  steps,  broken 
and  sagging.  Hodder  took  in,  subconsciously,  that  the 
house  was  a  dingy  grey,  of  three  stories  and  a  Mansard 
roof,  with  a  bay  window  on  the  yard  side,  and  a  fly-blown 
sign,  "  Rooms  to  Rent "  hanging  in  one  window.  Across 
the  street,  on  a  lot  that  had  once  held  a  similar  dig 
nified  residence,  was  the  yellow  brick  building  of  the 
"  Albert  Hotel,"  and  next  door,  on  the  east,  a  remodelled 
house  of  "  apartments "  with  speaking  tubes  in  the 
doorway. 

The  woman  led  him  up  another  flight  of  steps  to  the 
open  door  of  the  house,  through  a  hallway  covered  with 
a  ragged  carpet,  where  a  dilapidated  walnut  hat-rack  stood, 
up  the  stairs,  threading  a  dark  passage  that  led  into  a  low- 
ceiled,  stifling  room  at  the  very  back.  A  stout,  slatternly 
person  in  a  wrapper  rose  as  they  entered,  but  the  mother 
cast  herself  down  beside  the  lounge  where  the  child  was. 
Hodder  had  a  moment  of  fear  that  she  was  indeed  too  late, 
so  still  the  boy  lay,  so  pathetically  wan  was  the  little  face 
and  wasted  the  form  under  the  cotton  nightgown.  The 
mother  passed  her  hand  across  his  forehead. 

"  Dicky!  "  she  whispered  fearfully,  "  Dicky!  " 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  at  her,  feebly. 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHURCH  147 

The  stout  woman,  who  had  been  looking  on  with  that 
intensity  of  sympathy  of  which  the  poor  are  capable,  be 
gan  waving  gently  the  palm-leaf  fan.  She  was  German. 

"  He  is  so  good,  is  Dicky.  He  smile  at  me  when  I  fan 
him  —  once,  twice.  He  complains  not  at  all." 

The  mother  took  the  fan  from  her  hand. 

"Thank  you  for  staying  with  him,  Mrs.  Breitmann.  I 
was  gone  longer  than  I  expected."  The  fact  that  the 
child  still  lived,  that  she  was  again  in  his  presence,  the 
absorbing  act  of  caring  for  him  seemed  to  have  calmed 
her. 

"  It  is  nothing,  what  I  do,"  answered  Mrs.  Breitmann, 
and  turned  away  reluctantly,  the  tears  running  on  her 
cheeks.  "  When  you  go  again,  I  come  always,  Mrs. 
Garvin.  Ach!" 

Her  exclamation  was  caused  by  the  sight  of  the  tall 
figure  and  black  coat  of  the  rector,  and  as  she  left  the 
room,  Mrs.  Garvin  turned.  And  he  noticed  in  her  eyes 
the  same  expression  of  dread  they  had  held  when  she  had 
protested  against  his  coming. 

"Please  don't  think  that  I'm  not  thankful  —  "  she 
faltered. 

"  I  am  not  offering  you  charity,"  he  said.  "  Can  you 
not  take  from  other  human  beings  what  you  have  ac 
cepted  from  this  woman  who  has  just  left  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  it  isn't  that!  "  she  cried,  with  a  look  of  trust, 
of  appeal  that  was  new,  "  I  would  do  anything  —  I  will  do 
anything.  But  my  husband  —  he  is  so  bitter  against  the 
church,  against  ministers !  If  he  came  home  and  found 
you  here " 

"  I  know  —  many  people  feel  that  way,"  he  assented, 
"  too  many.  But  you  cannot  let  a  prejudice  stand  in  the 
way  of  saving  the  boy's  life,  Mrs.  Garvin." 

"  It  is  more  than  that.     If  you  knew,  sir " 

"Whatever  it  is,"  he  interrupted,  a  little  sternly,  "it 
must  not  interfere.  I  will  talk  to  your  husband." 

She  was  silent,  gazing  at  him  now  questioningly,  yet 
with  the  dawning  hope  of  one  whose  strength  is  all  but 
gone,  and  who  has  found  at  last  a  stronger  to  lean  upon. 


148  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

The  rector  took  the  fan  from  her  arrested  hand  and  began 
to  ply  it. 

"  Listen,  Mrs.  Garvin.  If  you  had  come  to  the  church 
half  an  hour  later,  I  should  have  been  leaving  the  city  for 
a  place  far  distant." 

"  You  were  going  away  ?     You  stayed  on  my  account?  " 

"  I  much  prefer  to  stay,  if  I  can  be  of  any  use,  and  I 
think  I  can.  I  am  sure  I  can.  What  is  the  matter  with 
the  child?" 

"  I  don't  know,  sir  —  he  just  lies  there  listless  and  gets 
thinner  and  thinner  and  weaker  and  weaker.  Sometimes 
he  feels  sick,  but  not  often.  The  doctor  don't  seem  to 
know." 

"  What  doctor  have  you?" 

"  His  name  is  Welling.     He's  around  the  corner." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  rector.  "  This  is  a  case  for  Dr. 
Jarvis,  who  is  the  best  child  specialist  in  the  city.  He  is 
a  friend  of  mine,  and  I  intend  to  send  for  him  at  once. 
And  the  boy  must  go  to  a  hospital " 

"Oh,  I  couldn't,  sir." 

He  had  a  poignant  realization  of  the  agony  behind  the 
cry.  She  breathed  quickly  through  her  parted  lips,  and 
from  the  yearning  in  her  tired  eyes —  as  she  gazed  at  the 
poor  little  form  —  he  averted  his  glance. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Garvin,  you  must  be  sensible,"  he  said. 
"  This  is  no  place  for  a  sick  child.  And  it  is  such  a 
nice  little  hospital,  the  one  1  have  in  mind,  and  so 
many  children  get  well  and  strong  there,"  he  added, 
cheerfully. 

"He  wouldn't  hear  of  it."  Hodder  comprehended  that 
she  was  referring  to  her  husband.  She  added  inconse- 
quently  :  "  If  I  let  him  go,  and  he  never  came  back  !  Oh, 
1  couldn't  do  it  —  I  couldn't." 

He  saw  that  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  not  to  press  her, 
to  give  her  time  to  become  accustomed  to  the  idea.  Come 
back  —  to  what?  His  eye  wandered  about  the  room,  that 
bespoke  the  last  shifts  of  poverty,  for  he  knew  that  none 
but  the  desperate  were  driven  to  these  Dalton  Street 
houses,  once  the  dwellings  of  the  well-to-do,  and  all  the 


THE   MESSENGER   IN  THE   CHURCH          149 

more  pitiful  for  the  contrast.  The  heated  air  reeked  with 
the  smell  of  stale  cooking.  There  was  a  gas  stove  at  one 
side,  a  linoleum-covered  table  in  the  centre,  littered  with 
bottles,  plates,  and  pitchers,  a  bed  and  chairs  which  had 
known  better  days,  now  obviously  bruised  and  battered  by 
many  enforced  movings.  In  one  corner  was  huddled  a 
little  group  of  toys. 

He  was  suddenly  and  guiltily  aware  that  the  woman 
had  followed  his  glance. 

"  We  had  them  in  Alder  Street,"  she  said.  "  We  might 
have  been  there  yet,  if  we  hadn't  been  foolish.  It's  a 
pretty  street,  sir  —  perhaps  you  know  it  —  you  take  the 
Fanshawe  Avenue  cars  to  Sherman  Heights.  The  air  is 
like  the  country  there,  and  all  the  houses  are  new,  and 
Dicky  had  a  yard  to  play  in,  and  he  used  to  be  so  healthy 
and  happy  in  it.  ...  We  were  rich  then,  —  not  what 
you'd  call  rich,"  she  added  apologetically,  "  but  we  owned 
a  little  home  with  six  rooms,  and  my  husband  had  a  good 
place  as  bookkeeper  in  a  grocery  house,  and  every  year 
for  ten  years  we  put  something  by,  and  the  boy  came. 
We  never  knew  how  well  off  we  were,  until  it  was  taken 
away  from  us,  I  guess.  And  then  Richard — he's  my 
husband  —  put  his  savings  into  a  company  —  he  thought 
it  was  so  safe,  and  we  were  to  get  eight  per  cent  —  and  the 
company  failed,  and  he  fell  sick  and  lost  his  place,  and  we 
had  to  sell  the  house,  and  since  he  got  well  again  he's  been 
going  around  trying  for  something  else.  Oh,  he's  tried  so 
hard, — every  day,  and  all  day  long.  You  wouldn't  believe 
it,  sir.  And  he's  so  proud.  He  got  a  job  as  porter,  but  he 
wasn't  able  to  hold  it  —  he  wasn't  strong  enough.  .  .  . 
That  was  in  April.  It  almost  broke  my  heart  to  see  him 
getting  shabby — he  used  to  look  so  tidy.  And  folks 
don't  want  you  when  you're  shabby."  .  .  . 

There  sprang  to  Hodder's  mind  a  sentence  in  a  book  he 
had  recently  read :  "  Our  slums  became  filled  with  sick 
who  need  never  have  been  sick ;  with  derelicts  who  need 
never  have  been  abandoned."  .  .  . 

Suddenly,  out  of  the  suffocating  stillness  of  the  after 
noon  a  woman's  voice  was  heard  singing  a  concert-hall 


150  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

air,  accompanied  by  a  piano  played  with  vigour  and 
abandon.  And  Hodder,  following  the  sound,  looked  out 
across  the  grimy  yard  —  to  a  window  in  the  apartment 
house  opposite. 

"  There's  that  girl  again,"  said  the  mother,  lifting  her 
head.  "  She  does  sing  nice,  and  play,  poor  thing  !  There 
was  a  time  when  I  wouldn't  have  wanted  to  listen.  But 
Dicky  liked  it  so.  ...  It's  the  very  tune  he  loved.  He 
don't  seem  to  hear  it  now.  He  don't  even  ask  for  Mr. 
Bentley  any  more." 

"  Mr.  Bentley  ?  "  the  rector  repeated.  The  name  was 
somehow  familiar  to  him. 

The  piano  and  the  song  ceased  abruptly,  with  a  bang. 

"  He  lives  up  the  street  here  a  way  —  the  kindest  old 
gentleman  you  ever  saw.  He  always  has  candy  in  his 
pockets  for  the  children,  and  it's  a  sight  to  see  them  follow 
him  up  and  down  the  sidewalk.  He  takes  them  to  the 
Park  in  the  cars  on  Saturday  afternoons.  That  was  all 
Dicky  could  think  about  at  first — would  he  be  well  enough 
to  go  with  Mr.  Bentley  by  Saturday  ?  And  he  was  for 
ever  asking  me  to  tell  Mr.  Bentley  he  was  sick.  I  saw 
the  old  gentleman  on  the  street  to-day,  and  I  almost  went 
up  to  him.  But  I  hadn't  the  courage." 

The  child  moaned,  stirred,  and  opened  his  eyes,  gazing 
at  them  feverishly,  yet  without  seeming  comprehension. 
She  bent  over  him,  calling  his  name.  .  .  .  Hodder  thrust 
the  fan  into  her  hand,  and  rose. 

"  I  am  going  to  telephone  Dr.  Jarvis,"  he  said,  "  and 
then  I  shall  come  back,  in  order  to  be  here  when  he 
arrives." 

She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir,  —  I  guess  it's  for  the  best " 

Her  voice  died  away,  and  the  rector,  seeking  for  the 
cause,  saw  that  a  man  had  entered  the  room.  He  walked 
up  to  the  couch  and  stood  for  a  moment  staring  moodily 
at  the  child,  while  the  woman  watched  him,  transfixed. 

"  Richard  !  "  she  said. 

He  paid  no  attention  to  her.  She  turned  to  Hodder. 
"  This  is  my  husband,  sir.  ,  .  .  Richard,  I  went  into  the 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHURCH          151 

church  — just  for  a  moment —  I  —  I  couldn't  help  it,  and 
this  gentleman  —  the  minister  —  came  home  with  me. 
He  wanted  to  —  he  thought  I  was  sick.  And  now  he's 
going  out  to  get  the  best  doctor  in  the  city  —  for  Dicky." 

The  man  turned  suddenly  and  confronted  the  rector. 

"  Why  don't  you  let  him  die,  you  and  your  church 
people  ?  "  he  asked.  "  You've  done  your  worst  to  kill 
him." 

The  woman  put  her  hand  fearfully,  imploringly  on  the 
man's  arm. 

"  Richard  !  "  she  whispered. 

But  as  Hodder  glanced  from  the  derelict  beside  him  a 
wave  of  comprehension  passed  through  him  that  swept  him 
clean  of  indignation,  of  resentment.  And  this  man  had 
been  prosperous  and  happy  ! 

"There  is  but  one  way  to  save  the  boy's  life,  Mr.  Garvin," 
he  said,  "and  that  is  to  put  him  in  charge  of  Dr.  Jarvis." 

The  man  made  no  reply,  but  went  over  to  the  window, 
staring  out  into  the  yard.  There  was  something  vaguely 
ominous  in  his  attitude.  The  rector  watched  him  a  mo 
ment,  and  then  turned  to  the  mother. 

"  You  must  not  lose  hope,"  he  told  her. 

She  looked  at  him  with  terror-stricken  eyes  that  sought 
to  be  grateful.  He  had  picked  up  his  hat  from  a  corner 
of  the  littered  table,  and  started  to  leave,  when  Garvin,  by 
a  sudden  movement,  planted  himself  in  the  doorway. 
Whether  he  had  been  drinking,  or  whether  he  were  merely 
crazed  by  misfortune  and  the  hopeless  search  in  the  heat 
for  employment,  and  by  lack  of  proper  nourishment,  Hodder 
could  not  say.  There  was  a  light  in  his  eyes  like  that  in 
a  wounded  animal's  ;  and  although  he  was  thin  and  slight, 
he  had  the  concentrated  power  of  desperation. 

"  Say,  what  church  do  you  come  from  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  From  St.  John's,"  said  the  rector. 

"Eldon  Parr's  church  ?  " 

Hodder  started,  in  spite  of  himself,  at  the  name. 

"  Mr.  Parr  is  a  member  of  the  congregation." 

"  Come  off  !  He  owns  it  and  runs  it,  the  same  as  he 
does  everything  else  in  this  town.  Maybe  you  don't  think 


152  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

I  read  the  Sunday  papers.  Say,  I  was  respectable  once, 
and  had  a  good  place.  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  would 
you?" 

Hodder  hesitated.  There  was  obviously  no  way  to  pass 
the  man  except  by  using  physical  force. 

"  If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me,  Mr.  Garvin,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  talk  to  you  later.  You  must  not  stop  me  now," 
he  said  with  a  touch  of  severity. 

"  You'll  listen  to  me,  right  here  and  now,"  cried  Garvin. 
"  If  you  think  I  am  going  to  let  Eldon  Parr's  minister,  or 
any  one  else  belonging  to  him,  save  that  boy's  life,  you've 
got  another  guess  comin'.  That's  all.  I'd  rather  have 
him  die  —  d'ye  hear  ?  I'd  rather  have  him  die." 

The  woman  behind  them  whimpered.  .  .  .  The  name 
was  ringing  like  a  knell  in  Hodder's  head  —  Eldon  Parr! 
Coming,  as  it  had,  like  a  curse  from  the  lips  of  this  wretched, 
half-demented  creature,  it  filled  his  soul  with  dismay. 
And  the  accusation  had  in  it  the  profound  ring  of  truth. 
He  was  Eldon  Parr's  minister,  and  it  was  Eldon  Parr  who 
stood  between  him  and  his  opportunity. 

"  Why  do  you  speak  of  Mr.  Parr  ?  "  he  asked,  though 
the  question  cost  him  a  supreme  effort. 

"  Why  do  I  speak  of  him  ?  My  God,  because  he  ruined 
me.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  damn  him,  I'd  have  a  home, 
and  health  and  happiness  to-day,  and  the  boy  would  be 
well  and  strong  instead  of  lying  there  with  the  life  all  but 
gone  out  of  him.  Eldon  Parr  did  for  me,  and  now  he's 
murdered  my  son  —  that's  wKy  I  mention  him." 

In  the  sudden  intensity  of  his  feeling,  Hodder  seized 
Garvin  by  the  arms  —  arms  that  were  little  more  than 
skin  and  bone.  The  man  might  be  crazed,  he  might  be 
drunk :  that  he  believed  what  he  was  saying  there  could 
be  no  question.  He  began  to  struggle  violently,  but  the 
rector  was  strong. 

"  Be  still,"  he  commanded.  And  suddenly,  overcome 
less  by  the  physical  power  than  by  the  aspect  of  the  clergy 
man,  an  expression  of  bewilderment  came  into  his  eyes, 
and  he  was  quiet.  Hodder  dropped  his  arms.  "  I  do  not 
intend  to  go  until  I  hear  what  you  have  to  say.  It  would 


THE   MESSENGER   IN   THE   CHURCH  153 

be  useless,  at  any  rate,  since  your  child's  life  is  at  stake. 
Tell  me  how  Mr.  Parr  has  ruined  you." 

Garvin  stared  at  him,  half  in  suspicion,  half  in  amaze 
ment.  • 

"  I  guess  you  never  knew  of  his  ruining  anybody,  did 
you  ?  "  he  demanded  sullenly.  "  Well,  I'll  tell  you  all 
right,  and  you  can  go  and  tell  him.  He  won't  care  much 
—  he's  used  to  it  by  this  time,  and  he  gets  square  with 
God  by  his  churches  and  charities.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
a  stock  called  Consolidated  Tractions  ?  " 

Consolidated  Tractions  !  In  contrast  to  the  sordid 
misery  and  degradation  of  this  last  refuge  of  the  desperate 
Hodder  saw  the  lofty,  panelled  smoking  room  at  Francis 
Ferguson's,  and  was  listening  again  to  Wallis  Plimpton's 
cynical  amusement  as  to  how  he  and  Everett  Constable  and 
Eldon  Parr  himself  had  "got  out"  before  the  crash;  "got 
out "  with  all  the  money  of  the  wretch  who  now  stood 
before  him  !  His  parishioners  !  his  Christians  I  Oh  God  ! 

The  man  was  speaking  in  his  shrill  voice. 

"Well,  I  was  a  Traction  sucker,  all  right,  and  I  guess 
you  wouldn't  have  to  walk  more  than  two  blocks  to  find 
another  in  this  neighbourhood.  You  think  Eldon  Parr's 
a  big,  noble  man,  don't  you  ?  You're  proud  to  run  his 
church,  ain't  you  ?  You  wouldn't  believe  there  was  a 
time  when  I  thought  he  was  a  big  man,  when  I  was  kind 
of  proud  to  live  in  the  same  city  with  him.  She'll  tell  you 
how  I  used  to  come  home  from  the  store  and  talk  about 
him  after  supper,  and  hope  that  the  kid  there  would  grow 
up  into  a  financier  like  Eldon  Parr.  The  boys  at  the  store 
talked  about  him :  he  sort  of  laid  hold  on  our  imaginations 
with  the  library  he  gave,  and  Elmwood  Park,  and  the 
picture  of  the  big  organ  in  your  church  in  the  newspapers 
— and  sometimes,  Mary  and  me  and  the  boy,  in  the  baby 
carriage,  on  Sunday  afternoons  we  used  to  walk  around 
by  his  house,  just  to  look  at  it.  You  couldn't  have  got 
me  to  believe  that  Eldon  Parr  would  put  his  name  to  any 
thing  that  wasn't  straight. 

"  Then  Consolidated  Tractions  came  along,  with  Parr's 
name  behind  it.  Everybody  was  talking  about  it,  and  how  it 


154  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

was  payin'  eight  per  cent,  from  the  start,  and  extra  divi 
dends  and  all,  and  what  a  marvel  of  finance  it  was.  Before 
the  kid  came,  as  soon  as  I  married  her,  we  began  to  save 
up  for  him.  We  didn't  go  to  the  theatres  or  nothing. 
Well,  I  put  it  all,  five  thousand  dollars,  into  Consolidated. 
She'll  tell  you  how  we  sat  up  half  the  night  after  we  got 
the  first  dividend  talking  about  how  we'd  send  the  kid  to 
college,  and  after  we  went  to  bed  we  couldn't  sleep.  It 
wasn't  more  than  a  year  after  that  we  began  to  hear  things 
—  and  we  couldn't  sleep  for  sure,  and  the  dividends 
stopped  and  the  stock  tumbled.  Even  then  I  wouldn't 
believe  it  of  him,  that  he'd  take  poor  people's  money  that 
way  when  he  had  more  than  he  knew  what  to  do  with.  I 
made  up  my  mind  if  I  went  down  to  see  him  and  told  him 
about  it,  he'd  make  it  right.  I  asked  the  boss  for  an  hour 
off,  and  headed  for  the  Parr  building  —  I've  been  tnere  as 
much  as  fifty  times  since  —  but  he  don't  bother  with  small 
fry.  The  clerks  laugh  when  they  see  me  comin'.  ...  1 
got  sick  worryin',  and  when  I  was  strong  enough  to  be  around 
they'd  filled  my  job  at  the  grocery,  and  it  wasn't  long 
before  we  had  to  move  out  of  our  little  home  in  Alder 
Street.  We've  been  movin'  ever  since,"  he  cried,  and 
tears  of  weakness  were  in  his  eyes,  "  until  we've  come  to 
this,  and  we'll  have  to  get  out  of  here  in  another  week. 
God  knows  where  we'll  go  then." 

Hodder  shuddered. 

"Then  I  found  out  how  he  done  it  —  from  a  lawyer. 
The  lawyer  laughed  at  me,  too.  Say,  do  you  wonder  I 
ain't  got  much  use  for  your  church  people  ?  Parr  got  a 
corporation  lawyer  named  Langmaid  —  he's  another  one 
of  your  millionnaire  crooks  —  to  fix  it  up  and  get  around 
the  law  and  keep  him  out  of  jail.  And  then  they  had  to 
settle  with  Tom  Beatty  for  something  like  three  hundred 
thousand.  You  know  who  Beatty  is  —  he  owns  this  city 
—  his  saloon's  around  here  on  Elm  Street.  All  the  crooks 
had  to  be  squared.  Say,"  he  demanded  aggressively, 
"are  Parr  and  Langmaid  any  better  than  Beatty,  or  any 
of  the  hold-up  men  Beatty  covers  ?  There's  a  street-walker 
over  there  in  those  flats  that's  got  a  million  times  more 


THE  MESSENGER  IN  THE   CHUECH  155 

chance  to  get  to  heaven  —  if  there  is  any  —  than  those 
financiers,  as  they  call  'emselves!  I  ain't  much  on  high 
finance,  but  I've  got  some  respect  for  a  second  story  man 
now  —  he  takes  some  risks!  I'll  tell  you  what  they  did, 
they  bought  up  the  short  car  lines  that  didn't  pay  and  sold 
'em  to  themselves  for  fifty  times  as  much  as  they  were 
worth  ;  and  they  got  controlling  interests  in  the  big  lines 
and  leased  'em  to  themselves  with  dividends  guaranteed 
as  high  as  eighteen  per  cent.  They  capitalized  the 
Consolidated  for  more  millions  than  a  little  man  like  me 
can  think  of,  and  we  handed  'em  our  money  because  we 
thought  they  were  honest.  We  thought  the  men  who 
listed  the  stock  on  the  Exchange  were  honest.  And 
when  the  crash  came,  they'd  got  away  with  the  swag,  like 
any  common  housebreakers.  There  were  dummy  directors, 
and  a  dummy  president.  Eldon  Parr  didn't  have  a  share 
—  sold  out  everything  when  she  went  over  two  hundred, 
but  you  bet  he  kept  his  stock  in  the  leased  lines,  which 
guarantee  more  than  they  earn.  He  cleaned  up  five  million, 
they  say.  .  .  .  My  money  —  the  money  that  might  give 
that  boy  fresh  air,  and  good  doctors.  .  .  .  Say,  you  believe 
in  hell,  don't  you  ?  You  tell  Eldon  Parr  to  keep  his  char 
ity,  —  he  can't  send  any  of  it  in  here.  And  you'd  better 
go  back  to  that  church  of  his  and  pray  to  keep  his  soul  out 
of  hell."  .  .  . 

His  voice,  which  had  risen  even  to  a  higher  pitch,  fell 
silent.  And  all  at  once,  without  warning,  Garvin  sank,  or 
rather  tumbled  upon  the  bed,  sobbing  in  a  way  that  was 
terrible  to  see.  The  wife  stole  across  the  room,  sat  down 
beside  him,  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  .  .  . 

In  spite  of  the  intensity  of  his  own  anguish,  Hodder 
was  conscious  of  a  curious  detachment ;  and  for  months 
afterward  particular  smells,  the  sight  of  a  gasoline  stove, 
a  certain  popular  tune  gave  him  a  sharp  twinge  of  pain. 
The  acid  distilling  in  his  soul  etched  the  scene,  the  sounds, 
the  odours  forever  in  his  memory :  a  stale  hot  wind  from 
the  alley  rattled  the  shutter-slats,  and  blew  the  door  to ; 
the  child  stirred ;  and  above  the  strident,  irregular  weep 
ing  rose  again,  in  ironical  contrast,  the  piano  and  the  voice 


156  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

across  the  yard.  In  that  glimpse  he  had  into  the  heart  of 
life's  terrible  mystery  he  momentarily  understood  many 
things :  he  knew  that  behind  the  abandon  of  the  woman's 
song  was  the  same  terror  which  reigned  in  the  room  in 
which  he  stood.  .  .  . 

There  were  voices  in  the  passageway  without,  a  woman 
saying  in  a  German  accent,  "It  is  here,  sir." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE   LOST   PARISHIONER 


HODDER  opened  the  door.  In  the  dingy  passageway  he 
perceived  a  tall  figure  which  immediately  turned  out  to  be 
that  of  an  old  gentleman.  In  spite  of  the  heat,  he  wore  a 
long  coat  and  an  old-fashioned,  high  collar,  a  black  tie, 
under  which  was  exposed  a  triangle  of  immaculate,  pleated 
linen.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  gold-headed  stick,  a  large 
tall  hat  of  which  the  silk  nap  was  a  little  rubbed,  a  string 
sustaining  a  parcel,  the  brown  paper  wrapping  of  which 
was  soaked  :  in  the  other,  a  manila  bag  containing  lemons. 
His  head  was  bent  forward  a  little,  the  high  dome  of  it 
was  bald,  but  the  white  hair  clustered  thickly  behind 
the  temples.  The  face  was  clean-shaven,  the  cheeks 
touched  with  red,  the  nose  high  and  dominating,  dis 
tinctly  philanthropic.  And  the  blue  eyes  rested  on  the 
clergyman  with  a  benevolence  unfeigned. 

"  Good  afternoon,  sir,"  the  old  gentleman  said ;  "  I  am 
told  Mrs.  Garvin  lives  here." 

Before  the  rector  could  reply  Mrs.  Garvin  herself  stood 
between  them. 

"  It's  Mr.  Bentley  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  fear  I'm  intruding,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  But  some  of 
Dicky's  little  friends  have  just  informed  me  that  he  is  ill, 
and  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  calling  to  inquire." 

Mr.  Bentley  entered  the  room,  —  simple  words  to  ex 
press  that  which  was  in  some  sort  an  event.  He  laid  his 
parcels  on  the  table,  his  hat  and  stick  on  a  chair,  and  stood 
looking  down  in  silence  at  the  thin  little  form  on  the  couch. 
Presently  he  turned. 

167 


158  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I'm  afraid  he's  very  ill,  ma'am,"  he  said  gently.  "  You 
have  your  own  doctor,  no  doubt.  But  if  you  will  permit 
me,  as  a  friend,  to  make  a  suggestion,  we  have  in  the  city 
one  of  the  best  child  specialists  in  the  United  States,  who 
is  never  weary  of  curing  these  little  ones,  —  Dr.  Jarvis,  — 
and  I  shall  be  happy  to  ask  him  to  come  and  see  Dicky." 

Mrs.  Garvin  glanced  at  Hodder,  who  came  forward. 

"I  was  just  about  to  telephone  for  Dr.  Jarvis,  Mr. 
Bentley,  when  you  arrived.  I  am  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St. 
John's." 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  The  kindly  eyes,  alight  with  a 
gentle  flame,  rested  upon  the  rugged  figure  of  the  rector. 
"  I  am  glad  that  you,  too,  agree  that  Dr.  Jarvis  is  advis 
able,  Mr.  Hodder." 

There  was  a  sound  from  the  bed.  Gaivin  had  got  to 
his  feet  and  was  staring  wildly,  with  reddened  lids. 

"  Are  you  Horace  Bentley  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  Mr.  Bentley  replied.  His  ex 
pression  of  surprise  was  only  momentary.  And  in  all  his 
life  Hodder  had  never  beheld  a  greater  contrast  in  human 
beings  than  between  that  gracious  and  courtly  old  man 
and  the  haggard,  unkempt,  unshaved,  and  starving  outcast 
facing  him.  Something  like  a  film  came  over  Garvin's 
eyes. 

"  He  ruined  you,  too,  twenty  years  back  —  Eldon  Parr 
did  for  you,  too.  Oh,  I  know  his  record,  I've  followed  his 
trail  —  he  got  all  the  Grantham  stock  that  would  have 
made  you  a  millionnaire  !  " 

"  Ah,"  replied  Mr.  Bentley,  smiling  to  humour  him, 
"  that's  something  I  have  no  wish  to  be,  sir,  —  a  million 
naire."  He  met  the  frightened  gaze  of  the  wife.  "  Good 
day,  ma'am.  If  you  will  allow  me,  I'll  come  to-morrow 
morning  to  learn  what  Dr.  Jarvis  will  have  had  to  say. 
Have  courage,  ma'am,  have  courage.  You  may  have  faith 
in  Dr.  Jarvis." 

The  poor  woman  was  incapable  of  speech.  Mr.  Bentley 
picked  up  his  hat  and  stick. 

"  I've  taken  the  liberty  of  bringing  Dicky  a  little  ice 
and  a  few  lemons."  His  eyes  rested  again  on  the  couch 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER  159 

by  the  window.  Then  he  turned  to  Garvin,  who  stood 
mutely,  staring.  "  Good  evening,  sir,"  he  said.  "  We  must 
look  for  the  best." 

II 

They  went  down  the  stairs  of  the  shabby  and  battered 
house,  stairs  by  the  side  of  which  holes  had  been  knocked 
through  the  faded  wall-paper  —  scars  of  frequent  movings. 
The  sound  and  smell  of  frying  came  out  of  the  open  door 
of  what  once  had  been  the  parlour,  and  on  the  front  steps 
a  little  girl  darted  past  them  with  a  pitcher  of  beer.  When 
they  reached  the  sidewalk  Mr.  Bentley  halted. 

"  If  you  were  intending  to  telephone  Dr.  Jarvis,  Mr. 
Hodder,  there  is  a  public  station  in  the  drug  store  just 
above  here.  I  know  that  clergymen  are  busy  persons,  and 
I  am  passing  it,  if  you  are  pressed  for  time." 

"My  only  concern  is  to  get  Jarvis  here,"  said  the  rector. 
"  If  I  may  go  with  you " 

Once  again  in  the  hot  sunlight,  reaction  had  set  in. 
Hodder  was  suddenly  unstrung,  and  the  kindly  old  gen 
tleman  beside  him  seemed  for  the  instant  the  only  fix 
ture  in  a  chaotic  universe.  It  was  not  until  later  reflec 
tion  that  he  realized  Mr.  Bentley  might,  by  an  intuitive 
sympathy,  a  depth  of  understanding,  have  divined  some 
thing  of  his  state,  since  the  incidents  which  followed  were 
to  be  accounted  for  on  no  other  grounds.  In  such  elemen 
tal  moments  the  frail  conventions  are  swept  away  :  Mr. 
Bentley,  whoever  he  might  be,  was  no  longer  a  stranger, 
and  it  seemed  wholly  natural  to  be  walking  with  him  up 
the  street,  to  hear  him  saying, — not  with  perfunctory 
politeness,  but  in  a  tone  that  was  itself  an  invitation,— 
"  With  pleasure,  sir,  we'll  go  together.  And  let  us  trust 
that  the  doctor  will  be  at  home." 

Nor  did  Hodder  stop  to  wonder,  then,  why  Mr.  Bentley 
should  have  sought  in  his  conversation  to  dissipate  some 
thing  of  the  hideous  blackness  of  a  tragedy  which  must 
have  moved  him  profoundly.  How  fortunate,  he  declared, 
that  they  should  have  arrived  before  it  was  too  late  !  For 


160  THE   INSIDE    OF   THE   CUP 

it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  these  Garvins  were  good  people 
who  had  been  broken  by  adversity.  .  .  .  The  boy  had 
struck  him  particularly  —  a  lovable,  merry  little  fellow 
whose  clothes,  Mr.  Bentley  observed,  were  always  neatly 
mended,  betokening  a  mother  with  self-respect  and  charac 
ter.  He  even  spoke  of  Garvin  :  adversity,  worry,  the  heat, 
constant  brooding  over  a  happier  past  and  an  uncertain  fu 
ture —  was  it  surprising  that  the  poor  man's  mind  had  be 
come  unhinged  ?  They  must  make  some  plan  for  Garvin, 
said  Mr.  Bentley,  get  the  man  and  his  wife  into  the  country 
for  a  while  amongst  kindly  people.  This  might  no  doubt 
be  arranged.  .  .  . 

"  Here  we  are,  sir." 

The  familiar  smell  of  drugs,  the  sound  of  the  trickling 
water  in  the  soda  fountain  roused  Hodder  to  reality,  to 
action,  and  he  hurried  into  the  telephone  booth,  fumbled 
in  the  dog-eared  book,  got  Dr.  Jarvis's  number  and  called 
it.  An  eternity  seemed  to  elapse  before  he  had  a  reply, 
heard  his  coin  jangling  in  the  box,  recognized  the  voice  of 
the  great  doctor's  secretary.  Yes,  the  doctor  was  in : 
would  he  speak  to  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St.  John's  ?  .  .  .  An 
interval,  during  which  Hodder  was  suddenly  struck  with 
this  designation  of  himself.  Was  he  still  of  St.  John's, 
then?  An  seon  might  have  elapsed  since  he  had  walked 
down  the  white  marble  of  its  aisle  toward  the  crouching 
figure  in  the  pew.  He  was  not  that  man,  but  another— 
and  still  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St.  John's.  .  .  .  Then  he  heard 
the  specialist  say,  "  Hello,  Mr.  Hodder,  what  can  I  do  for 
you?"  Heard  his  own  voice  in  reply,  explaining  the  case. 
Could  the  doctor  find  time  ?  The  doctor  could :  he  was 
never  too  busy  to  attend  to  the  poor, — though  he  did  not 
say  so :  he  would  be  there  by  half-past  six.  The  rector 
hung  up  the  receiver,  opened  the  door  of  the  booth  and 
mopped  his  brow,  for  the  heat  was  stifling. 

"  The  doctor  will  go,"  he  explained  in  answer  to  Mr. 
Bentley's  inquiring  look. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  when  they  were  out 
of  the  store,  "  we  have  done  all  that  we  can  for  the  time 
being.  I  do  not  live  far  from  here.  Perhaps  you  would 


THE  LOST  PARISHIONER  161 

give  me  the  pleasure  of  taking  supper  with  me,  if  you  have 
no  other  engagement." 

No  other  engagement !  Not  until  then  did  Hodder  re 
member  his  empty  rooms  in  the  parish  house,  and  the 
train  which  was  to  have  borne  him  away  from  all  this  al 
ready  speeding  northward.  He  accepted  gratefully,  nor 
did  he  pause  to  speculate  upon  the  mystery  by  which  the 
stream  of  his  life  seemed  so  suddenly  to  have  been  diverted. 
He  had,  indeed,  no  sense  of  mystery  in  the  presence  of 
this  splendidly  sane,  serene  old  man,  any  more  than  the 
children  who  ran  after  him  from  the  dingy  yards  and 
passages,  calling  his  name,  clinging  to  the  skirts  of  his 
coat.  These  accepted  him  simply  as  an  anomalous  fact 
in  their  universe,  grinned  at  his  pleasantries,  and  held  up 
grimy  little  hands  for  the  kidney-shaped  candy  beans  he 
drew  forth  from  his  capacious  pockets.  In  the  intervals 
he  reminisced  to  the  rector  about  the  neighbourhood. 

"  It  seems  but  a  short  while  ago  when  the  trees  met 
overhead  —  magnificent  trees  they  were.  The  asphalt 
and  the  soot  killed  them.  And  there  were  fruit  trees  in 
that  yard  —  "  he  pointed  with  his  stick  to  a  littered  sun- 
parched  plot  adjoining  a  battered  mansion  —  "  all  pink  and 
white  with  blossoms  in  the  spring.  Mr.  Hadley  lived 
there  —  one  of  our  forgotten  citizens.  He  is  dead  and 
gone  now  and  his  family  scattered.  That  other  house, 
where  the  boy  lies,  belonged  to  Mr.  Villars,  a  relation  of 
the  Atterbury  family,  and  I  can  recall  very  well  a  little 
girl  with  a  pink  sash  and  a  white  dress  who  used 
to  come  running  out  to  meet  me  with  flowers  in  her 
hands.  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  she  picked  them  in 
that  yard.  I  thought  of  her  as  I  went  in,  how  fresh 
and  happy  she  used  to  be,  and  what  a  different  place 
this  was  for  children  then.  She  must  have  some  of  her 
own  by  this  time." 

The  character  of  the  street  had  changed  to  what  might 
be  called  shabby-genteel,  and  they  stopped  before  a  three' 
story  brick  house  —  one  of  a  row  —  that  showed  signs  of 
scrupulous  care.  The  steps  were  newly  scrubbed,  the 
woodwork  neatly  painted. 


162  THE   INSIDE  OF   THE   CUP 

"This  is  where  I  live,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  opening 
the  door  with  a  latchkey  and  leading  the  way  into  a  high 
room  on  the  right,  darkened  and  cool,  and  filled  with 
superb,  old-fashioned  rosewood  furniture.  It  was  fitted 
up  as  a  library,  with  tall  shelves  reaching  almost  to  the 
ceiling. 

An  old  negro  appeared,  dressed  in  a  swallow-tailed 
coat.  His  hair  was  as  white  as  his  master's,  and  his  face 
creased  with  age. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  "  I  have  brought  home  a 
gentleman  for  supper." 

"  Yassah,  Misteh  Ho'ace.  I  was  jest  agwine  to  open 
up  de  blin's." 

He  lifted  the  wire  screens  and  flung  back  the  shutters, 
beamed  on  the  rector  as  he  relieved  him  of  his  hat,  and 
noiselessly  retired.  Curiosity,  hitherto  suppressed  by 
more  powerful  feelings,  awoke  in  Hodder  speculations 
which  ordinarily  would  have  been  aroused  before:  every 
object  in  the  room  bespoke  gentility,  was  eloquent  of  a 
day  when  wealth  was  honoured  and  respected:  photographs, 
daguerreotypes  in  old-fashioned  frames  bore  evidence  of 
friendships  of  the  past,  and  over  the  marble  mantel  hung 
a  portrait  of  a  sweet-faced  woman  in  the  costume  of  the 
thirties,  whose  eyes  reminded  Hodder  of  Mr.  Bentley's. 
Who  was  she  ? 

Hodder  wondered.  Presently  he  found  himself  before 
a  photograph  on  the  wall  beyond,  at  which  he  had  been 
staring  unconsciously. 

"  Ah,  you  recognize  it,"  said  Mr.  Bentley, 

"St.  John's!" 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Bentley  repeated,  "  St.  John's."  He  smiled 
at  Hodder's  glance  of  bewilderment,  and  put  his  hand  on 
the  younger  man's  arm.  "  That  picture  was  taken  before 
you  were  born,  sir,  I  venture  to  say  —  in  1869.  I  am 
very  fond  of  it,  for  it  gives  the  church  in  perspective,  as 
you  see.  That  was  Mr.  Gore's  house  "  —  he  indicated  a 
square,  heavily  corniced  mansion  —  "where  the  hotel  now 
stands,  and  that  was  his  garden,  next  the  church,  where 
you  see  the  trees  above  the  wall." 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER  163 

The  rector  turned  again  and  looked  at  his  host,  who 
was  gazing  at  the  picture  thoughtfully. 

"  I  ought  to  have  remembered,"  he  said.  "  I  have  seen 
your  name  in  the  church  records,  sir,  and  I  have  heard 
Mr.  Waring  speak  of  you." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Hodder,  there  is  no  reason  why  you 
should  have  known  me.  A  great  many  years  have  passed 
since  I  was  a  parishioner  of  St.  John's  —  a  great  many 
years." 

"  But  it  was  you,"  the  rector  began,  uncertainly,  and 
suddenly  spoke  with  conviction,  "it  was  you  who  chose 
the  architect,  who  did  more  than  other  men  to  make  the 
church  what  it  is." 

"  Whatever  I  may  have  done,"  replied  Mr.  Bentley, 
with  simple  dignity,  "has  brought  its  reward.  To  this 
day  I  have  not  ceased  to  derive  pleasure  from  it,  and 
often  I  go  out  of  my  way,  through  Burton  Street,  al 
though  the  view  is  cramped.  And  sometimes,"  he  added, 
with  the  hint  of  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "I  go  in.  This 
afternoon  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  seen  you,  Mr. 
Hodder." 

"  But  —  ?  "  said  the  rector.  He  stared  at  the  other's 
face,  and  the  question  died  on  his  lips. 

u  You  wonder  why  I  am  no  longer  a  parishioner.  The 
time  came  when  I  could  not  afford  to  be."  There  was  no 
hint  of  reproach  in  his  voice,  of  bitterness.  He  spoke 
regretfully,  indeed,  but  as  one  stating  an  incontrovertible 
fact.  "  I  lost  my  fortune,  I  could  not  keep  my  pew,  so  I 
deeded  it  back  to  the  church.  My  old  friends,  Mrs. 
Dimock  and  Asa  Waring,  and  others,  too,  were  very  kind. 
But  I  could  not  accept  their  hospitality." 

Hodder  bowed  his  head  in  silence.  What  thundered 
indictment  of  the  Church  of  Christ  could  have  been  as 
severe,  as  wholly  condemning  as  these  few  words  so  dis 
passionately  uttered  by  the  man  beside  him  ? 

The  old  darky  entered,  and  announced  supper. 

Hodder  had  lost  his  way,  yet  a  hand  had  been  held  out 
to  him,  and  he  seized  it.  With  a  sense  of  being  led, 
psychically  as  well  as  physically,  he  followed  Mr.  Bentley 


164  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

into  a  large  bedroom  where  a  high,  four-posted  bed  lifted 
a  pleated  canopy  toward  the  ceiling.  And  after  he  had 
washed  his  hands  they  entered  a  dining-room  looking  out 
upon  a  little  yard  in  the  rear,  which  had  been  transformed 
into  a  garden.  Roses,  morning  glories,  and  nasturtiums 
were  growing  against  the  walls;  a  hose  lay  coiled  upon 
the  path;  the  bricks,  baked  during  the  day,  were  splashed 
with  water;  the  leaves  and  petals  were  wet,  and  the  acrid 
odour  of  moist  earth,  mingling  with  perfumes,  penetrated 
the  room.  Hodder  paused  in  the  window. 

"  Sam  keeps  our  flowers  alive,"  he  heard  Mr.  Bentley 
say,  "  I  don't  know  how." 

"  I  scrubs  'em,  sah,"  said  Sam.  "  Yassah,  I  washes  'em 
like  chilluns." 

He  found  himself,  at  Mr.  Bentley's  request,  asking 
grace,  the  old  darky  with  reverently  bent  head  standing 
behind  his  master;  sitting  down  at  a  mahogany  table  that 
reflected  like  a  mirror  the  few  pieces  of  old  silver,  to  a 
supper  of  beaten  biscuits  that  burned  one's  ringers,  of 
broiled  chicken  and  coffee,  and  sliced  peaches  and  cream. 
Mr.  Bentley  was  talking  of  other  days  —  not  so  long  gone 
by  —  when  the  great  city  had  been  a  village,  or  scarcely 
more.  The  furniture,  it  seemed,  had  come  from  his  own 
house  in  what  was  called  the  Wilderness  Road,  not  far 
from  the  river  banks,  over  the  site  of  which  limited  trains 
now  rolled  on  their  way  eastward  toward  the  northernmost 
of  the  city's  bridges.  He  mentioned  many  names,  some 
remembered,  some  forgotten, — like  his  own;  dwelt  on 
pleasures  and  customs  gone  by  forever. 

"  A  little  while  after  I  moved  in  here,  I  found  that  one 
old  man  could  not  fill  the  whole  of  this  house,  so  I  let  the 
upper  floors,"  he  explained,  smilingly.  "  Some  day  I 
must  introduce  you  to  my  tenants,  Mr.  Hodder." 

By  degrees,  as  Hodder  listened,  he  became  calm.  Like 
a  child,  he  found  himself  distracted,  talking,  asking 
questions:  and  the  intervals  grew  longer  between  the  re 
current  surges  of  fear  when  the  memory  rose  before  him 
of  the  events  of  the  day,  —  of  the  woman,  the  child,  and 
the  man:  of  Eldon  Parr  and  this  deed  he  had  done; 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER  165 

hinting,  as  it  did,  of  closed  chambers  of  other  deeds  yet 
to  be  opened,  of  countless,  hidden  miseries  stilj.  to  be  re 
vealed:  when  he  heard  once  more  the  tortured  voice  of 
the  banker,  and  the  question:  "How  would  you  like  to 
live  in  this  house  —  alone  ?  "  In  contrast,  now  he  beheld 
the  peace  in  the  face  of  the  man  whose  worldly  goods 
Eldon  Parr  had  taken,  and  whom  he  had  driven  out  of 
the  church.  Surely,  this  man  had  found  a  solution!  .  .  . 
What  was  it  ?  ... 

Hodder  thought  of  the  child,  of  the  verdict  of  Dr. 
Jarvis,  but  he  lingered  on,  loth  to  leave,  —  if  the  truth  be 
told  —  afraid  to  leave;  drawing  strength  from  his  host's 
calm,  wondering  as  to  the  source  of  it,  as  to  the  life  which 
was  its  expression;  longing,  yet  not  presuming,  to  question. 
The  twilight  deepened,  and  the  old  darky  lit  a  lamp  and 
led  the  way  back  to  the  library. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  "  draw  up  the  armchair  for 
Mr.  Hodder  beside  the  window.  It  is  cooler  there." 

"I  ought  to  go,"  Hodder  said.  "I  ought  to  see  how 
the  child  is.  Jarvis  will  have  been  there  by  this  time, 
and  there  may  be  necessaries " 

44  Jarvis  will  have  attended  to  that,"  Mr.  Bentley  re 
plied.  "  Sit  down,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  am  not  sure  that,  for 
the  present,  we  have  not  done  all  in  this  case  that  is 
humanly  possible." 

"You  mean,"  said  the  rector,  "that  they  will  accept 
nothing  from  me."  It  came  from  him,  spontaneously,  like 
a  cry.  He  had  not  meant  to  say  it.  "I  don't  blame 
them.  I  don't  blame  them  for  losing  their  faith  in  God 
and  man,  in  the  Church.  I  ought  to  have  seen  it  before, 
but  I  was  blind,  incredibly  blind  —  until  it  struck  me  in 
the  face.  You  saw  it,  sir,  and  you  left  a  church  from 
which  the  poor  are  thrust  out,  which  refuses  to  heed  the 
first  precept  of  its  Master." 

"I  saw  it,"  answered  Mr.  Bentley,  "but  I  could  do 
nothing.  Perhaps  you  can  do  —  something." 

"Ah!"  Hodder  exclaimed  sharply,  "why  do  you  say 
that  ?  The  Church  is  paralyzed,  chained.  How  can  she 
reach  these  wretched  people  who  are  the  victims  of  the 


166  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

ruthless  individualism  and  greed  of  those  who  control  her? 
You  know  —  that  man,  Mr.  Bentley."  (Hodder  could  not 
bring  himself  to  pronounce  Eldon  Parr's  name. )  "I  had  an 
affection  for  him,  I  pitied  him,  because  he  suffers " 

"Yes,'^  echoed  Mr.  Bentley,  "he  suffers." 

Hodder  was  momentarily  ar/ested  by  the  sadness  of  his 
tone. 

"  But  he  doesn't  know  why  he  suffers  —  he  cannot  be 
made  to  see,"  the  rector  went  on.  "  And  he  is  making 
others  suffer,  — hideously,  while  he  imagines  himself  a 
Christian.  He  is  the  Church  to  that  miserable,  hopeless 
wretch  we  saw  to-day,  and  to  hundreds  of  the  same  kind 
whom  he  has  driven  to  desperation.  And  I  —  who  am 
supposed  to  be  the  vicar  of  God  —  I  am  powdrless.  They 
have  a  contempt  for  me,  a  just  contempt.  They  thrust 
me  out  of  their  doors,  bid  me  to  return  and  minister  to 
their  oppressors.  You  were  right  to  leave,  and  I  should 
have  left  long  since." 

He  had  not  spoken  with  violence,  or  with  a  lack 
of  control.  He  seemed  rather  to  have  regained  a 
mastery  of  himself,  and  felt  as  a  man  from  whom 
the  shackles  have  been  struck,  proclaiming  his  freedom. 
Mr.  Bentley's  eyes  lighted  in  involuntary  response  as  he 
gazed  at  the  figure  and  face  before  him.  He  pressed  his 
hands  together. 

"  If  you  will  forgive  a  curiosity,  Mr.  Hodder,  that  is 
somewhat  due  to  my  interest  in  a  church  with  which  I 
have  many  precious  associations,  may  I  ask  if  this  is  a 
sudden  determination  on  your  part  ?  " 

"  No,"  Hodder  said.  "  I  have  known  ever  since  I  came 
here  that  something  was  wrong,  but  at  first  I  couldn't 
see  it,  and  after  that  I  wouldn't  see  it.  That  is  about  what 
happened,  as  I  look  back  on  it. 

"But  the  farther  in  I  went,"  Hodder  continued,  "the 
more  tangled  and  bewildered  I  became.  I  was  hypno 
tized,  I  think,"  he  added  with  a  gesture,  —  "  hypnotized, 
as  a  man  is  who  never  takes  his  eyes  from  a  pattern.  I 
wanted  to  get  at  this  neighbourhood  —  Dal  ton  Street  — 
I  mean,  and  finally  I  agreed  to  the  establishment  of  a  set- 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER,  167 

tlement  house  over  here,  to  be  paid  for  largely  by  Eldon 
Parr  and  Francis  Ferguson.  I  couldn't  see  the  folly  of 
such  an  undertaking  —  the  supreme  irony  of  it,  until  — 
until  it  was  pointed  out  to  me."  He  hesitated;  the  re 
membrance  of  Alison  Parr  ran  through  him,  a  thread  of 
pain.  "  And  even  then  I  tried  to  dodge  the  issue,  I  tried 
to  make  myself  believe  that  good  might  flow  out  of  evil; 
that  the  Church,  which  is  supposed  to  be  founded  on  the 
highest  ideal  ever  presented  to  man,  might  compromise 
and  be  practical,  that  she  might  accept  money  which  had 
been  wrung  from  a  trusting  public  by  extortion,  by  thinly 
disguised  thievery  such  as  this  Consolidated  Tractions 
Company  fraud,  and  do  good  with  it!  And  at  last  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  go  away,  to-day,  to  a  quiet  place  where  I 
might  be  alone,  and  reflect,  when  by  a  singular  circum 
stance  I  was  brought  into  contact  with  this  man,  Garvin. 
I  see  now,  clearly  enough,  that  if  I  had  gone,  I  should 
never  have  come  back." 

"  And  you  still  intend  to  go  ?  "  Mr.  Bentley  asked. 

Hodder  leaned  his  elbow  against  the  mantel.  The  lamp 
light  had  a  curious  effect  on  Mr.  Bentley's  face. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  he  demanded.  The  question  was 
not  aimed  directly  at  his  host  —  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a 
renewed  appeal  to  a  tribunal  which  had  been  mute,  but 
with  which  he  now  seemed  vaguely  aware  of  a  certain  con 
tact.  "  Even  supposing  I  could  bring  myself  to  accept 
the  compromise  —  now  that  I  see  it  clearly,  that  the  end 
justifies  the  means  —  what  good  could  I  accomplish  ?  You 
saw  what  happened  this  afternoon  —  the  man  would  have 
driven  me  out  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you.  This  whole  con 
ception  of  charity  is  a  crime  against  civilization — I  had 
to  have  that  pointed  out  to  me,  too,  —  this  system  of  legal 
ized  or  semi-legalized  robbery  and  the  distribution  of 
largesse  to  the  victims.  The  Church  is  doing  wrong,  is 
stultifying  herself  in  encouraging  it.  She  should  set  her 
face  rigidly  against  it,  stand  for  morality  and  justice  and 
Christianity  in  government,  not  for  pauperizing.  It  is  her 
mission  to  enlighten  these  people,  all  people  —  to  make 
them  self-respecting,  to  give  them  some  notion  of  the 


168  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

dignity  of  their  souls  and  their  rights  before  God  and 
man." 

"Aren't  you  yourself  suggesting,"  said  Mr.  Bentley, 
"the  course  which  will  permit  you  to  remain?" 

Hodder  was  silent.  The  thought  struck  him  with  tre 
mendous  force.  Had  he  suggested  it?  And  how  — 
why  ?  Could  it  be  done  ?  Could  he  do  it  or  begin  it? 

"  We  have  met  at  last  in  a  singular  way,"  he  heard  Mr. 
Bentley  going  on,  "  in  a  way  that  has  brushed  aside  the 
conventions,  in  a  way  —  I  am  happy  to  say  —  that  has  en 
abled  you  to  give  me  your  confidence.  And  I  am  an  old 
man,  —  that  has  made  it  easier.  I  saw  this  afternoon, 
Mr.  Hodder,  that  you  were  troubled,  although  you  tried 
to  hide  it." 

"  I  knew  that  you  saw  it,"  Hodder  said. 

"  Nor  was  it  difficult  for  me  to  guess  something  of  the 
cause  of  it.  The  same  thing  has  troubled  me." 

"You?" 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Bentley  answered.  "  I  left  St.  John's,  but 
the  habits  and  affections  of  a  lifetime  are  not  easily  severed. 
And  some  time  before  I  left  it  I  began  to  have  visions  of 
a  future  for  it.  There  was  a  question,  many  years  ago,  as 
to  whether  a  new  St.  John's  should  not  be  built  in  the 
West  End,  on  a  site  convenient  to  the  parishioners,  and 
this  removal  I  opposed.  Mr.  Waring  stood  by  me.  We 
foresaw  the  day  when  this  district  would  be  —  what  it  is 
now  —  the  precarious  refuge  of  the  unfortunate  in  the 
battle  of  life,  of  just  such  unhappy  families  as  the  Garvins, 
of  miserable  women  who  sell  themselves  to  keep  alive. 
I  thought  of  St.  John's,  as  you  did,  as  an  oasis  in  a  desert 
of  misery  and  vice.  At  that  time  I,  too,  believed  in  the 
system  of  charities  which  you  have  so  well  characterized 
as  pauperizing." 

"And  now?" 

Mr.  Bentley  smiled,  as  at  a  reminiscence. 

"  My  eyes  were  opened,"  he  replied,  and  in  these  simple 
words  summed  up  and  condemned  it  all.  "They  are 
craving  bread,  and  we  fling  them  stones.  I  came  here. 
It  was  a  house  I  owned,  which  I  saved  from  the  wreck, 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER  169 

and  as  I  look  back  upon  what  the  world  would  call  a  misfor 
tune,  sir,  I  can  see  that  it  was  a  propitious  event,  for  me. 
The  street  *  ran  down,'  as  the  saying  goes.  I  grew  gradu 
ally  to  know  these  people,  my  new  neighbours,  largely 
through  their  children,  and  I  perceived  many  things  I  had 
not  dreamed  of  —  before  then.  I  saw  how  the  Church  was 
hampered,  fettered;  I  saw  why  they  disliked  and  distrusted 
it." 

"  And  yet  you  still  believed  that  it  had  a  mission?'5 
Hodder  interrupted.  He  had  been  listening  with  rapt 
attention. 

"  I  still  believed  it,"  said  Mr.  Bentley.  "  My  conception 
of  that  mission  changed,  grew,  and  yet  it  seemed  further 
and  further  from  fulfilment.  And  then  you  came  to  St. 
John's." 

"  I !  "     The  cry  was  involuntary. 

"You,"  Mr.  Bentley  repeated.  "Sometimes,"  he  added 
whimsically,  "  I  go  there,  as  I  have  told  you.  I  saw  you, 
I  heard  you  preach.  I  talked  to  my  friend  Waring  about 
you.  I  saw  that  your  eyes  were  not  opened,  but  I  think 
I  had  a  certain  presentiment,  for  which  I  do  not  pretend 
to  account,  that  they  would  be  opened." 

"  You  mean,"  said  the  rector,  "  that  if  I  believe  in  the 
mission  of  the  Church  as  I  have  partially  stated  it  here  to 
night,  I  should  stay  and  fight  for  it." 

"  Precisely,"  Mr.  Bentley  replied. 

There  was  a  note  of  enthusiasm,  almost  of  militancy  in 
the  old  gentleman's  tone  that  surprised  and  agitated  Hod 
der.  He  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room  before  he 
answered. 

"  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  the  view  I  expressed  a  mo 
ment  ago  is  new  to  me.  I  had  not  thought  of  it  before, 
and  it  is  absolutely  at  variance  with  any  previous  ideas  I 
have  held.  I  can  see  that  it  must  involve,  if  carried  to  its 
logical  conclusion,  a  change  in  the  conception  of  Chris 
tianity  I  have  hitherto  held." 

He  was  too  intent  upon  following  up  the  thought  to 
notice  Mr.  Bentley's  expression  of  assent. 

"And  suppose,"  he  asked,  "I  were  unable  to  come  to 


170  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

any  conclusion  ?  I  will  be  frank,  Mr.  Bentley,  and  confess 
to  you  that  at  present  I  cannot  see  my  way.  You  have 
heard  me  preach  —  you  know  what  my  beliefs  have  been. 
They  are  shattered.  And,  while  I  feel  that  there  is  some 
definite  connection  between  the  view  of  the  Church  which 
I  mentioned  and  her  message  to  the  individual,  I  do  not 
perceive  it  clearly.  I  am  not  prepared  at  present  to  be 
the  advocate  of  Christianity,  because  I  do  not  know  what 
Christianity  is.  I  thought  I  knew. 

"  I  shall  have  to  begin  all  over  again,  as  though  I  had 
never  taken  orders,  submit  to  a  thorough  test,  examine 
the  evidence  impartially.  It  is  the  only  way.  Of  this 
much  I  am  sure,  that  the  Church  as  a  whole  has  been  en 
gaged  in  a  senseless  conflict  with  science  and  progressive 
thought,  that  she  has  insisted  upon  the  acceptance  of  facts 
which  are  in  violation  of  reason  and  which  have  nothing 
to  do  with  religion.  She  has  taught  them  to  me  —  made 
them,  in  fact,  a  part  of  me.  I  have  clung  to  them  as  long 
as  I  can,  and  in  throwing  them  over  I  don't  know  where 
I  shall  land." 

His  voice  was  measured,  his  words  chosen,  yet  they  ex 
pressed  a  withering  indignation  and  contempt  which  were 
plainly  the  culmination  of  months  of  bewilderment  —  now 
replaced  by  a  clear-cut  determination. 

"  I  do  not  blame  any  individual,"  he  continued,  "  but 
the  system  by  which  clergymen  are  educated. 

"I  intend  to  stay  here,  now,  without  conducting  any 
services,  and  find  out  for  myself  what  the  conditions  are 
here  in  Dalton  Street.  You  know  those  people,  Mr.  Bent- 
ley,  you  understand  them,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to 
help  me.  You  have  evidently  solved  the  problem." 

Mr.  Bentley  rose.  And  he  laid  a  hand,  which  was  not 
quite  steady,  on  the  rector's  shoulder. 

"  Believe  me,  sir,"  he  replied,  "  I  appreciate  something 
of  what  such  a  course  must  mean  to  you  —  a  clergyman." 
He  paused,  and  a  look  came  upon  his  face,  a  look  that 
might  scarce  have  been  called  a  smile  —  Hodder  remem 
bered  it  as  a  glow  —  reminiscent  of  many  things.  In  it  a 
life  was  summed  up;  in  it  understanding,  beneficence, 


THE   LOST   PARISHIONER  171 

charity,  sympathy,  were  all  expressed,  yet  seemingly 
blended  into  one.  "  I  do  not  know  what  my  testimony 
may  be  worth  to  you,  my  friend,  but  I  give  it  freely.  I 
sometimes  think  I  have  been  peculiarly  fortunate.  But 
I  have  lived  a  great  many  years,  and  the  older  I  get  and 
the  more  I  see  of  human  nature  the  firmer  has  grown  my 
conviction  of  its  essential  nobility  and  goodness." 

Hodder  marvelled,  and  was  silent. 

"You  will  come  here,  often,  —  every  day  if  you  can. 
There  are  many  men  and  women,  friends  of  mine,  whom 
I  should  like  you  to  know,  who  would  like  to  know  you." 

44 1  will,  and  thank  you,"  Hodder  answered.  Words 
were  inadequate  for  the  occasion.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   WOMAN   OF   THE   SONG 

ON  leaving  Mr.  Bentley,  Hodder  went  slowly  down 
Dalton  Street,  wondering  that  mere  contact  with  another 
human  being  should  have  given  him  the  resolution  to  turn 
his  face  once  again  toward  the  house  whither  he  was  bound. 
And  this  man  had  given  him  something  more.  It  might 
hardly  have  been  called  faith  ;  a  new  courage  to  fare 
forth  across  the  Unknown — that  was  it;  hope,  faint  but 
revived. 

Presently  he  stopped  on  the  sidewalk,  looked  around 
him,  and  read  a  sign  in  glaring,  electric  letters,  Hotel 
Albert.  Despite  the  heat,  the  place  was  ablaze  with  lights. 
Men  and  women  were  passing,  pausing  —  going  in.  A 
motor,  with  a  liveried  chauffeur  whom  he  remembered 
having  seen  before,  was  standing  in  front  of  the  Rath 
skeller.  The  nightly  carousal  was  beginning. 

Hodder  retraced  his  steps,  crossed  the  street  diagonally, 
came  to  the  dilapidated  gate  he  remembered  so  well,  and 
looked  up  through  the  dusk  at  the  house.  If  death  had 
entered  it,  there  was  no  sign  :  death  must  be  a  frequent 
visitor  hereabouts.  On  the  doorsteps  he  saw  figures  out 
lined,  slatternly  women  and  men  in  shirtsleeves  who  rose 
in  silence  to  make  way  for  him,  staring  at  him  curiously. 
He  plunged  into  the  hot  darkness  of  the  hall,  groped  his 
way  up  the  stairs  and  through  the  passage,  and  hesitated. 
A  single  gas  jet  burned  low  in  the  stagnant  air,  and  after 
a  moment  he  made  out,  by  its  dim  light,  a  woman  on  her 
knees  beside  the  couch,  mechanically  moving  the  tattered 
palm-leaf  over  the  motionless  little  figure.  The  child  was 

172 


THE   WOMAN   OF   THE   SONG  173 

still  alive.  He  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  entered  ;  at  the 
sound  of  his  step  Mrs.  Garvin  suddenly  started  up. 

"  Richard  !  "  she  cried,  and  then  stood  staring  at  the 
rector.  "  Have  you  seen  my  husband,  sir  ?  He  went 
away  soon  after  you  left." 

Hodder,  taken  by  surprise,  replied  that  he  had  not. 
Her  tone,  her  gesture  of  anxiety  he  found  vaguely  dis 
quieting. 

"  The  doctor  has  been  here  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  absently.  "  I  don't  know  where 
he  can  be  —  Richard.  He  didn't  even  wait  to  see  the 
doctor.  And  he  thinks  so  much  of  Dicky,  sir,  he  sits  here 
of  an  evening " 

Hodder  sat  down  beside  her,  and  taking  the  palm-leaf 
from  her  hand,  began  himself  to  fan  the  child.  Something 
of  her  misgiving  had  communicated  itself  to  him. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  said.  "Remember  that  you  have 
been  through  a  great  deal,  and  it  is  natural  that  you  should 
be  overwrought.  Your  husband  feels  strongly.  I  don't 
blame  him.  And  the  sight  of  me  this  afternoon  upset 
him.  He  has  gone  out  to  walk." 

"  Richard  is  proud,"  she  answered  simply.  "  He  used 
to  say  he'd  rather  die  than  take  charity  —  and  now  he's 
come  to  it.  And  it's  —  that  man,  sir,  who's  got  on  his 
brain,  and  changed  him.  He  wasn't  always  like  this,  but 
now  he  can't  seem  to  think  of  anything  else.  He  wakes 
up  in  the  night.  .  .  .  And  he  used  to  have  such  a  sweet 
nature  —  you  wouldn't  have  known  him  .  .  .  and  came 
home  so  happy  in  the  evenings  in  Alder  Street,  often  with 
a  little  fruit,  or  something  he'd  bought  for  us,  and  romp 
with  Dicky  in  the  yard,  and  I'd  stand  and  laugh  at  them. 
Even  after  we'd  lost  our  money,  when  he  was  sick  that 
time,  he  didn't  feel  this  way.  It  grew  on  him  when  he 
couldn't  get  work,  and  then  he  began  to  cut  things  out  of 
the  papers  about  Mr.  Parr.  And  I  have  sometimes  thought 
that  that's  kept  him  from  getting  work.  He  talks  about 
it,  and  people  don't  know  what  to  make  of  him.  They 
don't  know  how  hard  he'd  try  if  they'd  give  him  some 
thing."  .  .  . 


174  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  We  shall  find  something,"  said  the  rector,  striving  to 
throw  into  his  voice  confidence  and  calm.  He  did  not  dare 
to  look  at  her,  but  continued  to  move  the  fan. 

The  child  stirred  a  little.  Mrs.  Garvin  put  out  her 
hand. 

"Yes,  the  doctor  was  here.  He  was  very  kind.  Oh, 
sir,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  you  won't  think  us  ungrateful 
—  and  that  Mr.  Bentley  won't.  Dr.  Jarvis  has  hopes,  sir, 
-  he  says  —  I  forget  the  name  he  called  it,  what  Dicky 
has.  It's  something  uncommon.  He  says  it  was  brought 
on  by  the  heat,  and  want  of  food  —  good  food.  And  he's 
coming  himself  in  the  morning  to  take  him  out  to  that 
hospital  beyond  the  park  —  in  an  automobile,  sir.  I  was 
just  thinking  what  a  pity  it  is  Dicky  wouldn't  realize  it. 
He's  always  wanted  to  ride  in  one."  Suddenly  her  tears 
flowed,  unheeded,  and  she  clung  to  the  little  hand  convul 
sively.  "  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  without  him,  sir, 
I  don't.  ...  I've  always  had  him  .  .  .  and  when  he's 
sick,  among  strangers."  .  .  . 

The  rector  rose  to  the  occasion. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Garvin,"  he  said  firmly,  "  you  must  re 
member  that  there  is  only  one  way  to  save  the  boy's  life. 
It  will  be  easy  to  get  you  a  room  near  the  hospital,  where 
you  can  see  him  constantly." 

"  I  know  —  I  know,  sir.  But  I  couldn't  leave  his  father, 
I  couldn't  leave  Richard. "  She  looked  around  distractedlv. 
"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  will  come  back  presently,"  said  the  rector.  "  If 
not,  I  will  look  for  him." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  continued  to  weep  in  silence. 
Suddenly,  above  the  confused  noises  of  the  night,  the  loud 
notes  of  a  piano  broke,  and  the  woman  whose  voice  he  had 
heard  in  the  afternoon  began  once  more  with  appalling 
vigour  to  sing.  The  child  moaned. 

Mrs.  Garvin  started  up  hysterically. 

"  I  can't  stand  it  —  I  can't  stand  her  singing  that  now," 
she  sobbed. 

Thirty  feet  away,  across  the  yard,  Hodder  saw  the  gleam 
ing  window  from  which  the  music  came.  He  got  to  his 


THE   WOMAN   OF  THE   SONG  175 

feet.  Another  verse  began,  with  more  of  the  brazen  em 
phasis  of  the  concert-hall  singer  than  ever.  He  glanced 
at  the  woman  beside  him,  irresolutely. 

"  I'll  speak  to  her,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Garvin  did  not  appear  to  hear  him,  but  flung  her 
self  down  beside  the  lounge.  As  he  seized  his  hat  and  left 
the  room  he  had  the  idea  of  telephoning  for  a  nurse,  when 
he  almost  ran  into  some  one  in  the  upper  hall,  and  recog 
nized  the  stout  German  woman,  Mrs.  Breitmann. 

"Mrs.  Garvin"  —  he  said,  "she  ought  not  to  be  left 
alone." 

"  I  am  just  now  going,"  said  Mrs.  Breitmann.  "  I  stay 
with  her  until  her  husband  come." 

Such  was  the  confidence  with  which,  for  some  reason, 
she  inspired  him,  that  he  left  with  an  easier  mind. 

It  was  not  until  the  rector  had  arrived  at  the  vestibule 
of  the  apartment  house  next  door  that  something  of  the 
difficulty  and  delicacy  of  the  errand  he  had  undertaken 
came  home  to  him.  Impulse  had  brought  him  thus  far, 
but  now  he  stood  staring  helplessly  at  a  row  of  bells,  speak 
ing  tubes,  and  cards.  Which,  for  example,  belonged  to  the 
lady  whose  soprano  voice  pervaded  the  neighbourhood  ? 
He  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  in  the  vain  hope  of  find 
ing  a  messenger.  The  song  continued  :  he  had  promised 
to  stop  it.  Hodder  accused  himself  of  cowardice. 

To  his  horror,  Hodder  felt  stealing  over  him,  incredible 
though  it  seemed  after  the  depths  through  which  he  had 
passed,  a  faint  sense  of  fascination  in  the  adventure.  It 
was  this  that  appalled  him  —  this  tenacity  of  the  flesh, 
which  no  terrors  seemed  adequate  to  drive  out.  The 
sensation,  faint  as  it  was,  unmanned  him.  There  were 
still  many  unexplored  corners  in  his  soul. 

He  turned,  once  more  contemplated  the  bells,  and  it 
was  not  until  then  he  noticed  that  the  door  was  ajar.  He 
pushed  it  open,  climbed  the  staircase,  and  stood  in  the 
doorway  of  what  might  be  called  a  sitting  room,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  a  swaying  back  before  an  upright  piano  against 
the  wall;  his  heart  seemed  to  throb  with  the  boisterous 
beat  of  the  music.  The  woman's  hair,  in  two  long  and 


176  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

heavy  plaits  falling  below  her  waist,  suddenly  fascinated 
him.  It  was  of  the  rarest  of  russet  reds.  She  came 
abruptly  to  the  end  of  the  song. 

"I  beg  your  pardon "  he  began. 

She  swung  about  with  a  start,  her  music  dropping  to 
the  floor,  and  stared  at  him.  Her  tattered  blue  kimono 
fell  away  at  her  elbows,  her  full  throat  was  bare,  and  a 
slipper  she  had  kicked  off  lay  on  the  floor  beside  her.  He 
recoiled  a  little,  breathing  deeply.  She  stared  at  him. 

"My  God,  how  you  scared  me  !  "  she  exclaimed.  Evi 
dently  a  second  glance  brought  to  her  a  realization  of  his 
clerical  costume.  "  Say,  how  did  you  get  in  here?  " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  again,  "  but  there  is  a  very 
sick  child  in  the  house  next  door  and  I  came  to  ask  you 
if  you  would  mind  not  playing  any  more  to-night." 

She  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  her  expression  he  found 
unsolvable.  Much  of  it  might  be  traced  to  a  life  which 
had  contracted  the  habit  of  taking  nothing  on  trust,  a 
life  which  betrayed  itself  in  unmistakable  traces  about 
the  eyes.  And  Hodder  perceived  that  the  face,  if  the 
stamp  of  this  expression  could  have  been  removed,  was 
not  unpleasing,  although  indulgence  and  recklessness 
were  beginning  to  remould  it. 

"  Quit  stringin'  me,"  she  said. 

For  a  moment  he  was  at  a  loss.  He  gathered  that  she 
did  not  believe  him,  and  crossed  to  the  open  window. 

"  If  you  will  come  here,"  he  said,  "  I  will  show  you  the 
room  where  he  lies.  We  hope  to  be  able  to  take  him  to 
the  hospital  to-morrow."  He  paused  a  moment,  and 
added:  "  He  enjoyed  your  music  very  much  when  he  was 
better." 

The  comment  proved  a  touchstone. 

"  Say,"  she  remarked,  with  a  smile  that  revealed  a  set 
of  surprisingly  good  teeth,  "  I  can  make  the  box  talk 
when  I  get  a-goin'.  There's  no  stopping  me  this  side  of 
grand  opera,  —  that's  no  fable.  I'm  not  so  bad  for  an 
enginoo,  am  I  ?  " 

Thus  directly  appealed  to,  in  common  courtesy  he 
assented. 


IfJ! 


MY  GOD,  HOW  YOU  SCARED  ME  ! ' " 


THE   WOMAN   OF   THE   SONG  177 

"  No  indeed,"  he  said. 

"  That's  right,,"  she  declared.  "  But  the  managers  won't 
have  it  at  any  price.  Those  jays  don't  know  anything, 
do  they?  They've  only  got  a  dream  of  what  the  public 
wants.  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  I've  sung  for  'em, 
and  they  threw  me  out.  You  wouldn't  believe  it,  would 
you?" 

"  I  must  own,"  said  the  rector,  "  that  I  have  never  had 
any  experience  with  managers." 

She  sat  still  considering  him  from  the  piano  stool,  her 
knees  apart,  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  Mockery  came 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Say,  what  did  you  come  in  here  for,  honest  injun  ?  " 
she  demanded. 

He  was  aware  of  trying  to  speak  sternly,  and  of  failing. 
To  save  his  life  he  could  not,  then,  bring  up  before  him 
self  the  scene  in  the  little  back  room  across  the  yard  in  its 
full  terror  and  reality,  reproduce  his  own  feelings  of  only 
a  few  minutes  ago  which  had  impelled  him  hither.  A 
month,  a  year  might  have  elapsed.  Every  faculty  was  now 
centred  on  the  woman  in  front  of  him,  and  on  her  life. 

"  Why  do  you  doubt  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  continued  to  contemplate  him.  Her  eyes  were 
strange,  baffling,  smouldering,  yellow-brown,  shifting, — 
yet  not  shifty:  eyes  with  a  history.  Her  laugh  proclaimed 
both  effrontery  and  uneasiness. 

"Don't  get  huffy,"  she  said.  "The  kid's  sick — that's 
on  the  level,  is  it?  You  didn't  come  'round  to  see  me?" 
The  insinuation  was  in  her  voice  as  well  as  in  her  words. 
He  did  not  resent  it,  but  felt  an  odd  thrill  of  commingled 
pity  and — fear. 

"  I  came  for  the  reason  I  have  given  you,"  he  replied; 
and  added,  more  gently:  "I  know  it  is  a  good  deal  to  ask, 
but  you  will  be  doing  a  great  kindness.  The  mother  is 
distracted.  The  child,  as  I  told  you,  will  be  taken  to  the 
hospital  in  the  morning." 

She  reached  out  a  hand  and  closed  the  piano  softly. 

"  I  guess  I  can  hold  off  for  to-night,"  she  said.  "  Some 
times  things  get  kind  of  dull  —  you  know,  when  there's 


178  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

nothing  doing,  and  this  keeps  me  lively.  How  old  is  the 
kid?" 

"  About  nine,"  he  estimated. 

"Say,  I'm  sorry."  She  spoke  with  a  genuineness  of 
feeling  that  surprised  him.  He  went  slowly,  almost 
apologetically  toward  the  door. 

"Good  night,"  he  said,  "and  thank  you." 

Her  look  halted  him. 

"  What's  your  hurry?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  he  said  hastily,  "  but  I  must  be  going." 
He  was,  in  truth,  in  a  panic  to  leave. 

"  You're  a  minister,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"I  guess  you  don't  think  much  of  me,  do  you?"  she 
demanded. 

He  halted  abruptly,  struck  by  the  challenge,  and  he  saw 
that  this  woman  had  spoken  not  for  herself,  but  for  an 
entire  outlawed  and  desperate  class.  The  fact  that  the 
words  were  mocking  and  brazen  made  no  difference;  it 
would  have  been  odd  had  they  not  been  so.  With  a 
shock  of  surprise  he  suddenly  remembered  that  his  ina 
bility  to  reach  this  class  had  been  one  of  the  causes  of  his 
despair  !  And  now  ?  With  the  realization,  reaction  set  in, 
an  overpowering  feeling  of  weariness,  a  desire  for  rest  — 
for  sleep.  The  electric  light  beside  the  piano  danced  be 
fore  his  eyes,  yet  he  heard  within  him  a  voice  crying  out 
to  him  to  stay.  Desperately  tired  though  he  was,  he 
must  not  leave  now.  He  walked  slowly  to  the  table,  put 
his  hat  on  it  and  sat  down  in  a  chair  beside  it. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  cut  it  out !  "  said  the  woman.  "  I'm  on  to  you 
church  folks."  She  laughed.  "One  of  'em  came  in  here 
once,  and  wanted  to  pray.  I  made  a  monkey  of  him." 

"I  hope,"  said  the  rector,  smiling  a  little,  "that  is  not 
the  reason  why  you  wish  me  to  stay." 

She  regarded  him  doubtfully. 

"  You're  not  the  same  sort,"  she  announced  at  length. 

"  What  sort  was  he  ?  " 

"  He  was  easy,  —  old  enough  to  know  better  —  most  of 


THE   WOMAN   OF  THE   SONG  179 

the  easy  ones  are.     He  marched  in  sanctimonious  as  you 

E  lease,  with  his  mouth  full  of  salvation  and  Bible  verses." 
he  laughed  again  at  the  recollection. 

44  And  after  that,"  said  the  rector,  "you  felt  that  min 
isters  were  a  lot  of  hypocrites." 

44 1  never  had  much  opinion  of  'em,"  she  admitted, 
44  nor  of  church  people,  either,"  she  added,  with  emphasis. 
44  There's  Ferguson,  who  has  the  department  store,  —  he's 
'way  up  in  church  circles.  I  saw  him  a  couple  of  months 
ago,  one  Sunday  morning,  driving  to  that  church  on  Bur 
ton  Street,  where  all  the  rich  folks  go.  I  forget  the 
name " 

"  St.  John's,"  he  supplied.     He  had  got  beyond  surprise. 

"  St.  John's  —  that's  it.  They  tell  me  he  gives  a  lot 
of  money  to  i«  —  money  that  he  steals  from  the  girls  he 
hires.  Oh,  yes,  he'll  get  to  heaven  —  I  don't  think." 

44  How  do  you  mean  that  he  steals  money  from  the 
girls  ?  " 

44  Say,  you  are  innocent  —  ain't  you  !  Did  you  ever  go 
down  to  that  store?  Do  you  know  what  a  floorwalker 
is  ?  Did  you  ever  see  the  cheap  guys  hanging  around, 
and  the  young  swells  waiting  to  get  a  chance  at  the  girls 
behind  the  counters  ?  Why  do  you  suppose  so  many  of ! 
'em  take  to  the  easy  life  ?  I'll  put  you  next  —  because! 
Ferguson  don't  pay  'em  enough  to  live  on.  That's  why. 
He  makes  'em  sign  a  paper,  when  he  hires  'em,  that  they 
live  at  home,  that  they've  got  some  place  to  eat  and  sleep, 
and  they  sign  it  all  right.  That's  to  square  up  Fergu 
son's  conscience.  But  say,  if  you  think  a  girl  can  support 
herself  in  this  city  and  dress  on  what  he  pays,  you've  got 
another  guess  comin'." 

There  rose  up  before  him,  unsummoned,  the  image  of 
Nan  Ferguson,  in  all  her  freshness  and  innocence,  as  she 
had  stood  beside  him  on  the  porch  in  Park  Street.  He 
was  somewhat  astonished  to  find  himself  defending  his 
parishioner. 

44  May  it  not  be  true,  in  order  to  compete  with  other 
department  stores,  that  Mr.  Ferguson  has  to  pay  the  same 
wages  ?  "  he  said. 


180  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

She  laughed. 

"  Forget  it.  I  guess  you  know  what  Gait  House  is  ? 
That's  where  women  like  me  can  go  when  we  get  all 
played  out  and  there's  nothing  left  in  the  game  —  it's  on 
River  Street.  Maybe  you've  been  there." 

Hodder  nodded. 

"  Well,"  she  continued,  "  Ferguson  pays  a  lot  of  money 
to  keep  that  going,  and  gets  his  name  in  the  papers.  He 
hands  over  to  the  hospitals  where  some  of  us  die  —  and 
it's  all  advertised.  He  forks  out  to  the  church.  Now, 
I  put  it  to  you,  why  don't  he  sink  some  of  that  money 
where  it  belongs  —  in  living  wages  ?  Because  there's 
nothing  in  it  for  him  —  that's  why." 

The  rector  looked  at  her  in  silence.  He  had  not  sus 
pected  her  of  so  much  intellect.  He  glanced  about  the 
apartment,  at  the  cheap  portiere  flung  over  the  sofa ;  at 
the  gaudy  sofa  cushions,  two  of  which  bore  the  names 
and  colours  of  certain  colleges.  The  gas  log  was  almost 
hidden  by  dried  palm  leaves,  a  cigarette  stump  lay  on 
the  fender ;  on  the  mantel  above  were  several  photo 
graphs  of  men  and  at  the  other  side  an  open  door  revealed 
a  bedroom. 

"  This  is  a  nice  place,  ain't  it  ? "  she  observed.  "  I 
furnished  it  when  I  was  on  velvet  —  nothing  was  too 
good  for  me.  Money's  like  champagne  when  you  take 
the  cork  out,  it  won't  keep.  I  was  rich  once.  It  was 
lively  while  it  lasted,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh :  "  I've 
struck  the  down  trail.  I  oughtn't,  by  rights,  to  be  here 
fooling  with  you.  There's  nothing  in  it."  She  glanced 
at  the  clock.  "I  ought  to  get  busy." 

As  the  realization  of  her  meaning  came  to  him,  he 
quivered. 

"  Is  there  no  way  but  that  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Say,  you're  not  a-goin'  to  preach,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  "  God  forbid  !  I  was  not  asking 
the  question  of  you." 

She  stared  at  him. 

"  Of  who,  then  ?  " 

He  was  silent. 


THE   WOMAN  OF  THE   SONG  181 

"  You've  left  me  at  the  station.  But  on  the  level,  you 
don't  seem  to  know  much,  that's  a  fact.  You  don't  think 
the  man  who  owns  these  flats  is  in  it  for  charity,  do  you  ? 
4  Single  ladies,'  like  me,  have  to  give  up.  And  then  there 
are  other  little  grafts  that  wouldn't  interest  you.  What 
church  do  you  come  from  anyway  ?  " 

"  You  mentioned  it  a  little  while  ago." 

"  St.  John's  !  "  She  leaned  back  against  the  piano  and 
laughed  unrestrainedly.  "That's  a  good  one,  to  think 
how  straight  I've  been  talking  to  you." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said. 

Again  she  gazed  at  him,  now  plainly  perplexed. 

"  What  are  you  giving  me  ?  " 

"  I  mean  what  I  sa}V  he  answered.  "  I  am  obliged  to 
you  for  telling  me  things  I  didn't  know.  And  I  appre 
ciate —  your  asking  me  to  stay." 

She  was  sitting  upright  now,  her  expression  changed, 
her  breath  came  more  rapidly,  her  lips  parted  as  she  gazed 
at  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  I  haven't  had  anybody  speak 
to  me  like  that  for  four  years."  Her  voice  betrayed  ex 
citement,  and  differed  in  tone,  and  she  had  cast  off  uncon 
sciously  the  vulgarity  of  speech.  At  that  moment  she 
seemed  reminiscent  of  what  she  must  once  have  been ; 
and  he  found  himself  going  through  an  effort  at  recon 
struction. 

"  Like  what  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Like  a  woman,"  she  answered  vehemently. 

"  My  name  is  John  Hodder,"  he  said,  "  and  I  live  in  the 
parish  house,  next  door  to  the  church.  I  should  like  to 
be  your  friend,  if  you  will  let  me.  If  I  can  be  of  any 
help  to  you  now,  or  at  any  other  time,  I  shall  feel  happy. 
I  promise  not  to  preach,"  he  added. 

She  got  up  abruptly,  and  went  to  the  window.  And 
when  she  turned  to  him  again,  it  was  with  something  of 
the  old  bravado. 

"  You'd  better  leave  me  alone,  I'm  no  good,"  she  said. 
"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  don't  want  any  charity 
or  probation  houses  in  mine.  And  honest  work's  a  thing 


182  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

of  the  past  for  me  —  even  if  I  could  get  a  job.  Nobody 
would  have  me.  But  if  they  would,  I  couldn't  work  any 
more.  I've  got  out  of  the  hang  of  it."  With  a  swift  and 
decisive  movement  she  crossed  the  room,  opened  a  cabinet 
on  the  wall,  revealing  a  bottle  and  glasses. 

"  So  you're  bent  upon  going  —  downhill  ?  "  he  said. 

"  What  can  you  do  to  stop  it  ?  "  she  retorted  defiantly. 
"  Give  me  religion  —  I  guess  you'd  tell  me.  Religion's 
all  right  for  those  on  top,  but  say,  it  would  be  a  joke 
if  I  got  it.  There  ain't  any  danger.  But  if  I  did,  it 
wouldn't  pay  room-rent  and  board." 

He  sat  mute.  Once  more  the  truth  overwhelmed,  the 
folly  of  his  former  optimism  arose  to  mock  him.  What 
he  beheld  now,  in  its  true  aspect,  was  a  disease  of  that 
civilization  he  had  championed.  .  .  . 

She  took  the  bottle  from  the  cupboard  and  laid  it  on 
the  table. 

"  What's  the  difference  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  It's  all  over 
in  a  little  while,  anyway.  I  guess  you'd  tell  me  there 
was  a  hell.  But  if  that's  so,  some  of  your  church  folks'll 
broil,  too.  I'll  take  my  chance  on  it,  if  they  will."  She 
looked  at  him,  half  in  defiance,  half  in  friendliness,  across 
the  table.  "  Say,  you  mean  all  right,  but  you're  only 
wastin'  time  here.  You  can't  do  me  any  good,  I  tell  you, 
and  I've  got  to  get  busy." 

"  May  we  not  at  least  remain  friends  ?  "  he  asked,  after 
a  moment. 

Her  laugh  was  a  little  harsh. 

"  What  kind  of  friendship  would  that  be  ?  You,  a  min 
ister,  and  me  a  woman  on  the  town  ?  " 

"  If  I  can  stand  it,  I  should  think  you  might." 

"  Well,  I  can't  stand  it,"  she  answered. 

He  got  up,  and  held  out  his  hand.  She  stood  seemingly 
irresolute,  and  then  took  it. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said. 

"  Good  night,"  she  repeated  nonchalantly. 

As  he  went  out  of  the  door  she  called  after  him : 

"  Don't  be  afraid  I'll  worry  the  kid  !  " 

The  stale  odour  of  cigarette  smoke  with  which  the  dim 


THE  WOMAN   OF   THE   SONG  183 

corridor  was  charged  intoxicated,  threatened  to  overpower 
him.  It  seemed  to  be  the  reek  of  evil  itself.  A  closing 
door  had  a  sinister  meaning.  He  hurried ;  obscurity 
reigned  below,  —  the  light  in  the  lower  hall  being  out ; 
fumbled  for  the  door-knob,  and  once  in  the  street  took 
a  deep  breath  and  mopped  his  brow ;  but  he  had  not 
proceeded  half  a  block  before  he  hesitated,  retraced  his 
steps,  reentered  the  vestibule,  and  stooped  to  peer  at  the 
cards  under  the  speaking  tubes.  Cheaply  printed  in  large 
script,  was  the  name  of  the  tenant  of  the  second  floor 
rear,  —  Miss  KATE  MARCY.  .  .  . 

In  crossing  Tower  Street  he  was  frightened  by  the 
sharp  clanging  of  a  great  electric  car  that  roared  past 
him,  aflame  with  light.  His  brain  had  seemingly  ceased 
to  work,  and  he  stumbled  at  the  curb,  for  he  was  very 
tired.  The  events  of  the  day  no  longer  differentiated 
themselves  in  his  mind  but  lay,  a  composite  weight,  upon 
his  heart.  At  length  he  reached  the  silent  parish  house, 
climbed  the  stairs  and  searched  in  his  pocket  for  the  key 
of  his  rooms.  The  lock  yielded,  but  while  feeling  for 
the  switch  he  tripped  and  almost  fell  over  an  obstruction 
on  the  floor. 

The  flooding  light  revealed  his  travelling-bags,  as  he  had 
piled  them,  packed  and  ready  to  go  to  the  station. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

WINTERBOURNE 


HODDEE  fell  asleep  from  sheer  exhaustion,  awaking 
during  the  night  at  occasional  intervals  to  recall  chimeri 
cal  dreams  in  which  the  events  of  the  day  before  were 
reflected,  but  caricatured  and  distorted.  Alison  Parr  was 
talking  to  the  woman  in  the  flat,  and  both  were  changed, 
and  yet  he  identified  both  :  and  on  another  occasion  he 
saw  a  familiar  figure  surrounded  by  romping,  ragged  chil 
dren  —  a  figure  which  turned  out  to  be  Eldon  Parr's ! 

Finally  he  was  aroused  by  what  seemed  a  summons  from 
the  unknown  —  the  prolonged  morning  whistle  of  the  shoe 
factory.  For  a  while  he  lay  as  one  benumbed,  and  the 
gradual  realization  that  ensued  might  be  likened  to  the 
straining  of  stiffened  wounds.  Little  by  little  he  recon 
structed,  until  the  process  became  unbearable,  and  then  rose 
from  his  bed  with  one  object  in  mind,  —  to  go  to  Horace 
Bentley.  At  first  he  seized  upon  the  excuse  that  Mr. 
Bentley  would  wish  to  hear  the  verdict  of  Dr.  Jarvis,  but 
immediately  abandoned  it  as  dishonest,  acknowledging  the 
true  reason,  that  in  all  the  world  the  presence  of  this  one 
man  alone  might  assuage  in  some  degree  the  terror  in  his 
soul.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  since  childhood,  he 
knew  a  sense  of  utter  dependence  upon  another  human 
being.  He  felt  no  shame,  would  make  no  explanation  for 
his  early  visit. 

He  turned  up  Tower,  deliberately  avoiding  Dalton 
Street  in  its  lower  part,  reached  Mr.  Bentley's  door. 
The  wrinkled,  hospitable  old  darky  actually  seemed  to 
radiate  something  of  the  personality  with  which  he  had 

184 


WINTERBOURNE  185 

so  long  been  associated,  and  Hodder  was  conscious  of  a 
surge  of  relief,  a  return  of  confidence  at  sight  of  him. 
Yes,  Mr.  Bentley  was  at  home,  in  the  dining  room.  The 
rector  said  he  would  wait,  and  not  disturb  him. 

"  He  done  tole  me  to  bring  you  out,  sah,  if  you  come," 
said  Sam. 

"  He  expects  me  ?  "  exclaimed  Hodder,  with  a  shock  of 
surprise. 

"  That's  what  he  done  tole  me,  sah,  to  ax  you  kindly  for 
to  step  out  when  you  come." 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  penetrate  into  the  little  back 
yard,  where  the  flowers  were  still  glistening  with  the  drops 
of  their  morning  bath ;  and  Mr.  Bentley  sat  by  the  window 
reading  his  newspaper,  his  spectacles  on  his  nose,  and  a 
great  grey  cat  rubbing  herself  against  his  legs.  He  rose 
with  alacrity. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  he  said,  and  his  welcome  implied 
that  early  morning  visits  were  the  most  common  and  natural 
of  occurrences.  "  Sam,  a  plate  for  Mr.  Hodder.  I  was 
just  hoping  you  would  come  and  tell  me  what  Dr.  Jarvis 
had  said  about  the  case." 

But  Hodder  was  not  deceived.  He  believed  that  Mr. 
Bentley  understood  perfectly  why  he  had  come,  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  old  gentleman's  comprehension  curi 
ously  added  to  his  sense  of  refuge.  He  found  himself 
seated  once  more  at  the  mahogany  table,  permitting  Sam  to 
fill  his  cup  with  coffee. 

"  Jarvis  has  given  a  favourable  report,  and  he  is  coming 
this  morning  himself,  in  an  automobile,  to  take  the  boy  out 
to  the  hospital." 

"That  is  like  Jarvis,"  was  Mr.  Bentley's  comment. 
"  We  will  go  there,  together,  after  breakfast,  if  convenient 
for  you,"  he  added. 

"  I  hoped  you  would,"  replied  the  rector.  "  And  I  was 
going  to  ask  you  a  favour.  I  have  a  check,  given  me  by 
a  young  lady  to  use  at  my  discretion,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  Garvin  might  be  willing  to  accept  some  proposal  from 
you."  He  thought  of  Nan  Ferguson,  and  of  the  hope  he 
had  expressed  of  finding  some  one  in  Dalton  Street. 


186  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  have  been  considering  the  matter,"  Mr.  Bentley  said. 
"I  have  a  friend  who  lives  on  the  trolley  line  a  little 
beyond  the  hospital,  a  widow.  It  is  like  the  country  there, 
you  know,  and  I  think  Mrs.  Bledsoe  could  be  induced  to 
take  the  Garvins.  And  then  something  can  be  arranged 
for  him.  I  will  find  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  him  this 
morning." 

Hodder  sipped  his  coffee,  and  looked  out  at  the  morning- 
glories  opening  to  the  sun. 

"  Mrs.  Garvin  was  alone  last  night.  He  had  gone  out 
shortly  after  we  left,  and  had  not  waited  for  the  doctor. 
She  was  greatly  worried." 

Hodder  found  himself  discussing  these  matters  on  which, 
an  hour  before,  he  had  feared  to  permit  his  mind  to  dwell. 
And  presently,  not  without  feeling,  but  in  a  manner  elim 
inating  all  account  of  his  personal  emotions,  he  was  relating 
that  climactic  episode  of  the  woman  at  the  piano.  The  old 
gentleman  listened  intently,  and  in  silence. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  when  the  rector  had  finished,  "  that  is 
my  observation.  Most  of  them  are  driven  to  the  life,  and 
Aeld  in  it,  of  course,  by  a  remorseless  civilization.  In 
dividuals  may  be  culpable,  Mr.  Hodder  —  are  culpable. 
But  we  cannot  put  the  whole  responsibility  on  individ 
uals." 

"No,"  Hodder  assented,  "I  can  see  that  now."  He 
paused  a  moment,  and  as  his  mind  dwelt  upon  the  scene 
and  he  saw  again  the  woman  standing  before  him  in 
bravado,  the  whole  terrible  meaning  of  her  life  and  end 
flashed  through  him  as  one  poignant  sensation.  Her 
dauntless  determination  to  accept  the  consequence  of  her 
acts,  her  willingness  to  look  her  future  in  the  face,  cried 
out  to  him  in  challenge. 

"  She  refused  unconditionally,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Bentley  seemed  to  read  his  thought,  divine  his 
appeal. 

"  We  must  wait,"  he  answered. 

"  Do  you  think  —  -  ?  "  Hodder  began,  and  stopped 
abruptly. 

"  I  remember  another  case,  somewhat  similar,"  said  Mr. 


WINTERBOUKNTE  187 

Bentley.  "  This  woman,  too,  had  the  spirit  you  describe 
—  we  could  do  nothing  with  her.  We  kept  an  eye  on  her, 
or  rather  Sally  Grover  did  —  she  deserves  credit  —  and 
finally  an  occasion  presented  itself." 

"  And  the  woman  you  speak  of  was  —  rehabilitated  ?  " 
Hodder  asked.  He  avoided  the  word  "  saved." 

"  Yes,  sir.  It  was  one  of  the  fortunate  cases.  There 
are  others  which  are  not  so  fortunate." 

Hodder  nodded. 

"  We  are  beginning  to  recognize  that  we  are  dealing,  in 
many  instances,  with  a  disease,"  Mr.  Bentley  went  on.  "  I 
am  far  from  saying  that  it  cannot  be  cured,  but  sometimes 
we  are  forced  to  admit  that  the  cure  is  not  within  our 
power,  Mr.  Hodder." 

Two  thoughts  struck  the  rector  simultaneously,  the 
revelation  of  what  might  be  called  a  modern  enlighten 
ment  in  one  of  Mr.  Bentley's  age,  an  indication  of  unin 
terrupted  growth,  of  the  sense  of  continued  youth  which 
had  impressed  him  from  the  beginning ;  and,  secondly,  an 
intimation  from  the  use  of  the  plural  pronoun  we,  of  an 
association  of  workers  (informal,  undoubtedly)  behind  Mr. 
Bentley.  While  he  was  engaged  in  these  speculations  the 
door  opened. 

"  Heah's  Miss  Sally,  Marse  Ho'ace,"  said  Sam. 

"  Good  morning,  Sally,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  rising  from 
the  table  with  his  customary  courtesy,  "I'm  glad  you 
came  in.  Let  me  introduce  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St.  John's." 

Miss  Grover  had  capability  written  all  over  her.  She 
was  a  young  woman  of  thirty,  slim  to  spareness,  sim 
ply  dressed  in  a  shirtwaist  and  a  dark  blue  skirt ;  alert,  so 
distinctly  American  in  type  as  to  give  a  suggestion  of  the 
Indian.  Her  quick,  deep-set  eyes  searched  Hodder's  face 
as  she  jerked  his  hand  ;  but  her  greeting  was  cordial,  and 
matter-of-fact.  She  stimulated  curiosity. 

"  Well,  Sally,  what's  the  news  ?"  Mr.  Bentley  asked. 

"  Gratz,  the  cabinet-maker,  was  on  the  rampage  again, 
Mr.  Bentley.  His  wife  was  here  yesterday  when  I  got 
home  from  work,  and  I  went  over  with  her.  He  was  in  a 
beastly  state,  and  all  the  niggers  and  children  in  the  neigh- 


188  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

bourhood,  including  his  own,  around  the  shop.  Fusel  oil, 
labelled  whiskey,"  she  explained,  succinctly. 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Took  the  bottle  away  from  him,"  said  Miss  Grover. 
The  simplicity  of  this  method,  Hodder  thought,  was  un 
deniable.  "  Stayed  there  until  he  came  to.  Then  I  reckon 
I  scared  him  some." 

"  How  ?  "  Mr.  Bentley  smiled. 

"  I  told  him  he'd  have  to  see  you.  He'd  rather  serve 
three  months  than  do  that  —  said  so.  I  reckon  he  would, 
too,"  she  declared  grimly.  "  He's  better  than  he  was  last 
year,  I  think."  She  thrust  her  hand  in  the  pocket  of  her 
skirt  and  produced  some  bills  and  silver,  which  she  counted. 
"  Here's  three  thirty-five  from  Sue  Brady.  I  told  her  she 
hadn't  any  business  bothering  you,  but  she  swears  she'd 
spend  it." 

"  That  was  wrong,  Sally." 

Miss  Grover  tossed  her  head. 

"  Oh,  she  knew  I'd  take  it,  well  enough." 

"  I  imagine  she  did,"  Mr.  Bentley  replied,  and  his  eyes 
twinkled.  He  rose  and  led  the  way  into  the  library, 
where  he  opened  his  desk,  produced  a  ledger,  and  wrote 
down  the  amount  in  a  fine  hand. 

"  Susan  Brady,  three  dollars  and  thirty-five  cents.  I'll 
put  it  in  the  savings  bank  to-day.  That  makes  twenty- 
two  dollars  and  forty  cents  for  Sue.  She's  growing  rich." 

"  Some  man'll  get  it,"  said  Sally. 

"  Sally,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  turning  in  his  chair,  "  Mr. 
Hodder's  been  telling  me  about  a  rather  unusual  woman 
in  that  apartment  house  just  above  Fourteenth  Street,  on 
the  south  side  of  Dalton " 

"  I  think  I  know  her  —  by  sight,"  Sally  corrected  her 
self.  She  appealed  to  Hodder.  "  Red  hair,  and  lots  of  it 
—  I  suppose  a  man  would  call  it  auburn.  She  must  have 
been  something  of  a  beauty,  once." 

The  rector  assented,  in  some  astonishment. 

"  Couldn't  do  anything  with  her,  could  you  ?  I  reckoned 
not.  I've  noticed  her  up  and  down  Dalton  Street  at 
night." 


WINTERBOUKNE  189 

Hodder  was  no  longer  deceived  by  her  matter-of-fact 
tone. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Hodder,"  she  went  on,  energeti 
cally,  "  there's  not  a  particle  of  use  running  after  those 
people,  and  the  sooner  you  find  it  out  the  less  worry  and 
trouble  you  give  yourself." 

"  Mr.  Hodder  didn't  run  after  her,  Sally,"  said  Mr. 
Bentley,  in  gentle  reproof. 

Hodder  smiled. 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Grover,  "  I've  had  my  eye  on  her. 
She  has  a  history  —  most  of  'em  have.  But  this  one's  out 
of  the  common.  When  they're  brazen  like  that,  and 
have  had  good  looks,  you  can  nearly  always  tell.  You've 
got  to  wait  for  something  to  happen,  and  trust  to  luck  to 
be  on  the  spot,  or  near  it.  It's  a  toss-up,  of  course. 
One  thing  is  sure,  you  can't  make  friends  with  that  kind 
if  they  get  a  notion  you're  up  to  anything." 

"  Sally,  you  must  remember  —  "  Mr.  Bentley  began. 

Her  tone  became  modified.  Mr.  Bentley  was  apparently 
the  only  human  of  whom  she  stood  in  awe. 

"All  I  meant  was,"  she  said,  addressing  the  rector, 
"  that  you've  got  to  run  across  'em  in  some  natural  way." 

"  I  understood  perfectly,  and  I  agree  with  you,"  Hodder 
replied.  "  I  have  come,  quite  recently,  to  the  same  con 
clusion  myself." 

She  gave  him  a  penetrating  glance,  and  he  had  to 
admit,  inwardly,  that  a  certain  satisfaction  followed  Miss 
Grover's  approval. 

"Mercy,  I  have  to  be  going,"  she  exclaimed,  glancing 
at  the  black  marble  clock  on  the  mantel.  "  We've  got  a 
lot  of  invoices  to  put  through  to-day.  See  you  again,  Mr. 
Hodder."  She  jerked  his  hand  once  more.  "Good 
morning,  Mr.  Bentley." 

"Good  morning,  Sally." 

Mr.  Bentley  rose,  and  took  his  hat  and  gold-headed 
stick  from  the  rack  in  the  hall. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  Sally,"  he  said,  when  they  had 
reached  the  sidewalk.  "  Sometimes  her  brusque  manner  is 
not  understood.  But  she  is  a  very  extraordinary  woman." 


190  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  can  see  that,"  the  rector  assented  quickly,  and  with 
a  heartiness  that  dispelled  all  doubt  of  his  liking  for  Miss 
Grover.  Once  more  many  questions  rose  to  his  lips, 
which  he  suppressed,  since  Mr.  Bentley  volunteered  no 
information.  Hodder  became,  in  fact,  so  lost  in  specula 
tion  concerning  Mr.  Bentley's  establishment  as  to  forget 
the  errand  on  which  they  were  bound.  And  Sally 
Grover's  words,  apropos  of  the  woman  in  the  flat,  seemed 
but  an  energetic  driving  home  of  the  severe  lessons  of  his 
recent  experiences.  And  how  blind  he  had  been,  he 
reflected,  not  to  have  seen  the  thing  for  himself  !  Not  to 
have  realized  the  essential  artificiality  of  his  former 
method  of  approach  !  And  then  it  struck  him  that  Sally 
Grover  herself  must  have  had  a  history. 

Mr.  Bentley,  too,  was  preoccupied. 

Presently,  in  the  midst  of  these  thoughts,  Hodder's 
eyes  were  arrested  by  a  crowd  barring  the  sidewalk  on 
the  block  ahead ;  no  unusual  sight  in  that  neighbourhood, 
and  yet  one  which  aroused  in  him  sensations  of  weakness 
and  nausea.  Thus  were  the  hidden  vice  and  suffering  of 
these  sinister  places  occasionally  brought  to  light,  ex 
posed  to  the  curious  and  morbid  stares  of  those  whose 
own  turn  might  come  on  the  morrow.  It  was  only  by 
degrees  he  comprehended  that  the  people  were  gathered 
in  front  of  the  house  to  which  they  were  bound.  An 
ambulance  was  seen  to  drive  away :  it  turned  into  the 
side  street  in  front  of  them. 

"  A  city  ambulance  !  "  the  rector  exclaimed. 

Mr.  Bentley  did  not  reply. 

The  murmuring  group  which  overflowed  the  uneven 
brick  pavement  to  the  asphalt  was  characteristic :  women 
in  calico,  drudges,  women  in  wrappers,  with  sleepy,  awe- 
stricken  faces ;  idlers,  men  and  boys  who  had  run  out  of 
the  saloons,  whose  comments  were  more  audible  and 
caustic,  and  a  fringe  of  children  ceaselessly  moving  on  the 
outskirts.  The  crowd  parted  at  their  approach,  and  they 
reached  the  gate,  where  a  burly  policeman,  his  helmet 
in  his  hand,  was  standing  in  the  morning  sunlight  mop- 


WINTEEBOUENE  191 

ping  his  face  with  a  red  handkerchief.  He  greeted  Mr. 
Bentley  respectfully,  by  name,  and  made  way  for  them  to 
pass  in. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  Ryan  ?  "  Mr.  Bentley  asked. 

"  Suicide,  sir,"  the  policeman  replied.  "  Jumped  off 
the  bridge  this  morning.  A  tug  picked  him  up,  but  he 
never  came  to  —  the  strength  wasn't  in  him.  Sure  it's  all 
wore  out  he  was.  There  was  a  letter  on  him,  with  the  j 
house  number,  so  they  knew  where  to  fetch  him.  It's  a 
sad  case,  sir,  with  the  woman  in  there,  and  the  child  gone 
to  the  hospital  not  an  hour  ago." 

"  You  mean  Garvin  ?  "  Mr.  Bentley  demanded. 

"It's  him  I  mean,  sir." 

"  We'd  like  to  go  in,"  said  Mr.  Bentley.  "  We  came 
to  see  them." 

"  You're  welcome,  sir,  and  the  minister  too.  It's  only 
them  I'm  holdin'  back,"  and  the  policeman  shook  his 
stick  at  the  people. 

Mr.  Bentley  walked  up  the  steps,  and  took  off  his  hat 
as  he  went  through  the  battered  doorway.  Hodder 
followed,  with  a  sense  of  curious  faces  staring  at  them 
from  the  thresholds  as  they  passed ;  they  reached  the 
upper  passage,  and  the  room,  and  paused:  the  shutters 
were  closed,  the  little  couch  where  the  child  had  been  was 
empty.  On  the  bed  lay  a  form  —  covered  with  a  sheet, 
and  beside  it  a  woman  kneeling,  shaken  by  sobs,  cease 
lessly  calling  a  name.  .  .  . 

A  stout  figure,  hitherto  unperceived,  rose  from  a  corner 
and  came  silently  toward  them  —  Mrs.  Breitmann.  She 
beckoned  to  them,  and  they  followed  her  into  a  room  on 
the  same  floor,  where  she  told  them  what  she  knew,  heed 
less  of  the  tears  coursing  ceaselessly  down  her  cheeks. 

It  seemed  that  Mrs.  Garvin  had  had  a  premonition 
which  she  had  not  wholly  confided  to  the  rector.  She  had 
believed  her  husband  never  would  come  back  ;  and  early 
in  the  morning,  in  spite  of  all  that  Mrs.  Breitmann  could 
do,  had  insisted  at  intervals  upon  running  downstairs 
and  scanning  the  street.  At  half  past  seven  Dr.  Jarvis 
had  come  and  himself  carried  down  the  child  and 


192  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

put  him  in  the  back  of  his  automobile.  The  doctor  had 
had  a  nurse  with  him,  and  had  begged  the  mother  to 
accompany  them  to  the  hospital,  saying  that  he  would 
send  her  back.  But  she  would  not  be  persuaded  to  leave 
the  house.  The  doctor  could  not  wait,  and  had  finally 
gone  off  with  little  Dicky,  leaving  a  powder  with  Mrs. 
Breitmann  for  the  mother.  Then  she  had  become  uncon 
trollable. 

u  Ach,  it  was  terrible  !  "  said  the  kind  woman.  "  She 
was  crazy,  yes  —  she  was  not  in  her  mind.  I  make  a 
little  coffee,  but  she  will  not  touch  it.  All  those  things 
about  her  home  she  would  talk  of,  and  how  good  he  was, 
and  how  she  lofed  him  more  again  than  the  child.  .  .  . 
Und  then  the  wheels  in  the  street,  and  she  makes  a  cry 
and  runs  to  see  —  I  cannot  hold  her.  ..." 

"  It  would  be  well  not  to  disturb  her  for  a  while,"  said 
Mr.  Bentley,  seating  himself  on  one  of  the  dilapidated 
chairs  which  formed  a  part  of  the  German  woman's  meagre 
furniture.  "  I  will  remain  here  if  you,  Mr.  Hodder,  will 
make  the  necessary  arrangements  for  the  funeral.  Have 
you  any  objections,  sir  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  rector,  and  left  the  house,  the 
occupants  of  which  had  already  returned  to  the  daily 
round  of  their  lives :  the  rattle  of  dishes  and  the  noise  of 
voices  were  heard  in  the  ci  devant  parlour,  and  on  the 
steps  he  met  the  little  waif  with  the  pitcher  of  beer;  in 
the  street  the  boys  who  had  gathered  around  the  ambu 
lance  were  playing  baseball.  Hodder  glanced  up,  in 
voluntarily,  at  the  window  of  the  woman  he  had  visited 
the  night  before,  but  it  was  empty.  He  hurried  along  the 
littered  sidewalks  to  the  drug  store,  where  he  telephoned 
an  undertaker ;  and  then,  as  an  afterthought,  telephoned 
the  hospital.  The  boy  had  arrived,  and  was  seemingly 
no  worse  for  the  journey. 

All  this  Hodder  performed  mechanically.  Not  until  he 
was  returning  —  not,  indeed,  until  he  entered  the  house 
did  the  whiff  of  its  degrading,  heated  odours  bring  home 
to  him  the  tragedy  which  it  held,  and  he  grasped  the 
banister  on  the  stairs.  The  thought  that  shook  him  now 


WINTEEBOURNE  193 

was  of  the  cumulative  misery  of  the  city,  of  the  world,  of 
which  this  history  on  which  he  had  stumbled  was  but  one 
insignificant  incident.  But  he  went  on  into  Mrs.  Breit- 
mann's  room,  and  saw  Mr.  Bentley  still  seated  where  he 
had  left  him.  The  old  gentleman  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Mrs.  Breitmann  and  I  are  agreed,  Mr.  Hodder,  that 
Mrs.  Garvin  ought  not  to  remain  in  there.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"  By  all  means,  no,"  said  the  rector. 

The  German  woman  burst  into  a  soliloquy  of  sympathy 
that  became  incoherent. 

"She  will  not  leave  him,  —  nein  —  she  will  not  come. 

5) 

They  went,  the  three  of  them,  to  the  doorway  of  the 
death  chamber  and  stood  gazing  at  the  huddled  figure  of 
the  woman  by  the  bedside.  She  had  ceased  to  cry  out: 
she  was  as  one  grown  numb  under  torture  ;  occasionally  a 
convulsive  shudder  shook  her.  But  when  Mrs.  Breit 
mann  touched  her,  spoke  to  her,  her  grief  awoke  again  in 
all  its  violence,  and  it  was  more  by  force  than  persuasion 
that  she  was  finally  removed.  Mrs.  Breitmann  held  one 
arm,  Mr.  Bentley  another,  and  between  them  they  fairly 
carried  her  out,  for  she  was  frail  indeed. 

As  for  Hodder,  something  held  him  back  —  some  dread 
that  he  could  not  at  once  define.  And  while  he  groped 
for  it,  he  stood  staring  at  the  man  on  the  bed,  for  the  hantf 
of  love  had  drawn  back  the  sheet  from  the  face.  The 
battle  was  over  of  this  poor  weakling  against  the  world  ; 
the  torments  of  haunting  fear  and  hate,  of  drink  and 
despair  had  triumphed.  The  sight  of  the  little  group  of 
toys  brought  up  the  image  of  the  home  in  Alder  Street  as 
the  wife  had  pictured  it.  Was  it  possible  that  this  man, 
who  had  gone  alone  to  the  bridge  in  the  night,  had  once 
been  happy,  content  with  life,  grateful  for  it,  possessed  of 
a  simple  trust  in  his  fellow-men  —  in  Eldon  Parr?  Once 
more,  unsummoned,  came  the  memory  of  that  evening  of 
rain  and  thunder  in  the  boy's  room  at  the  top  of  the  great 
house  in  Park  Street.  He  had  pitied  Eldon  Parr  then. 
Did  he  now? 


194  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

He  crossed  the  room,  on  tiptoe,  as  though  he  feared  to 
wake  once  more  this  poor  wretch  to  his  misery  and  hate. 
Gently  he  covered  again  the  face  with  the  sheet. 

Suddenly  he  knew  the  reason  of  his  dread,  —  he  had  to 
face  the  woman!  He  was  a  minister  of  Christ,  it  was  his 
duty  to  speak  to  her,  as  he  had  spoken  to  others  in  the 
hour  of  sorrow  and  death,  of  the  justice  and  goodness  of 
the  God  to  whom  she  had  prayed  in  the  church.  What 
should  he  say,  now?  In  an  agony  of  spirit,  he  sat  down 
on  the  little  couch  beside  the  window  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands.  The  sight  of  poor  Garvin's  white  and  wasted 
features,  the  terrible  contrast  between  this  miserable  tene 
ment  and  the  palace  with  its  unseen  pictures  and  porcelains 
and  tapestries,  brought  home  to  him  with  indescribable 
poignancy  his  own  predicament.  He  was  going  to  ask 
this  woman  to  be  comforted  by  faith  and  trust  in  the  God 
of  the  man  who  had  driven  her  husband  to  death!  He 
beheld  Eldon  Parr  in  his  pew  complacently  worshipping 
that  God,  who  had  rewarded  him  with  riches  and  success 
—  beheld  himself  as  another  man  in  his  white  surplice 
acquiescing  in  that  God,  preaching  vainly.  .  .  . 

At  last  he  got  to  his  feet,  went  out  of  the  room,  reached 
the  doorway  of  that  other  room  and  looked  in.  Mr. 
Bentley  sat  there  ;  and  the  woman,  whose  tears  had  ceased 
to  flow,  was  looking  up  into  his  face. 

H 

"  The  office  ensuing"  says  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
meaning  the  Burial  of  the  Dead,  "is  not  to  be  used  for  any 
unbaptized  adult,  any  who  die  excommunicate,  or  who  have 
laid  violent  hands  on  themselves." 

Hodder  had  bought,  with  a  part  of  Nan  Ferguson's 
money,  a  tiny  plot  in  a  remote  corner  of  Winterbourne 
Cemetery.  And  thither,  the  next  morning,  the  body  of 
Richard  Garvin  was  taken. 

A  few  mourners  had  stolen  into  the  house  and  up  the 
threadbare  stairs  into  the  miserable  little  back  room,  some 
how  dignified  as  it  had  never  been  before,  and  laid  their  gifts 


WINTEKBOUKNE  195 

upon  the  coffin.  An  odd  and  pitiful  assortment  they  were 
—  mourners  and  gifts :  men  and  women  whose  only  bond 
with  the  man  in  life  had  been  the  bond  of  misery ;  who 
had  seen  him  as  he  had  fared  forth  morning  after  morning 
in  the  hopeless  search  for  work,  and  slunk  home  night 
after  night  bitter  and  dejected ;  many  of  whom  had  lis 
tened,  jeeringly  perhaps,  to  his  grievance  against  the 
world,  though  it  were  in  some  sort  their  own.  Death,  for 
them,  had  ennobled  him.  The  little  girl  whom  Hodder 
had  met  with  the  pitcher  of  beer  came  tiptoeing  with  a 
wilted  bunch  of  pansies,  picked  heaven  knows  where ; 
stolen,  maybe,  from  one  of  the  gardens  of  the  West  End. 
Carnations,  lilies  of  the  valley,  geraniums  even  —  such 
were  the  offerings  scattered  loosely  on  the  lid  until  a 
woman  came  with  a  mass  of  white  roses  that  filled  the 
room  with  their  fragrance,  —  a  woman  with  burnished  red 
hair.  Hodder  started  as  he  recognized  her  ;  her  gaze  was 
a  strange  mixture  of  effrontery  and  —  something  else; 
sorrow  did  not  quite  express  it.  The  very  lavishness  of 
her  gift  brought  to  him  irresistibly  the  reminder  of  an 
other  offering.  .  .  .  She  was  speaking. 

"  I  don't  blame  him  for  what  he  done  —  I'd  have  done 
it,  too,  if  I'd  been  him.  But  say,  I  felt  kind  of  bad  when 
I  heard  it,  knowing  about  the  kid,  and  all.  I  had  to 
bring  something " 

Instinctively  Hodder  surmised  that  she  was  in  doubt  as 
to  the  acceptance  of  her  flowers.  He  took  them  from  her 
hand,  and  laid  them  at  the  foot  of  the  coffin. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  simply. 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment  with  the  perplexity  she 
had  shown  at  times  on  the  night  he  visited  her,  and  went 
out.  .  .  . 

Funerals,  if  they  might  be  dignified  by  this  name,  were 
not  infrequent  occurrences  in  Dalton  Street,  and  why  this 
one  should  have  been  looked  upon  as  of  sufficient  impor 
tance  to  collect  a  group  of  onlookers  at  the  gate  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  say.  Perhaps  it  was  because  of  the  seeming  interest 
in  it  of  the  higher  powers  —  for  suicide  and  consequent 
widows  and  orphans  were  not  unknown  there.  This 


196  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

widow  and  this  orphan  were  to  be  miraculously  rescued, 
were  to  know  Dalton  Street  no  more.  The  rector  of  a 
fashionable  church,  of  all  beings,  was  the  agent  in  the 
miracle.  Thus  the  occasion  was  tinged  with  awe.  As 
for  Mr.  Bentley,  his  was  a  familiar  figure,  and  had  been 
remarked  in  Dalton  Street  funerals  before. 

They  started,  the  three  mourners,  on  the  long  drive  to 
the  cemetery,  through  unfrequented  streets  lined  with 
mediocre  dwellings,  interspersed  with  groceries  and  saloons 
—  short  cuts  known  only  to  hearse  drivers  :  they  traversed, 
for  some  distance,  that  very  Wilderness  road  where  Mr. 
Bentley's  old-fashioned  mansion  once  had  stood  011  its  long 
green  slope,  framed  by  ancient  trees  ;  the  Wilderness  road, 
now  paved  with  hot  blocks  of  granite  over  which  the 
carriage  rattled;  spread  with  car  tracks,  bordered  by 
heterogeneous  buildings  of  all  characters  and  descriptions, 
bakeries  and  breweries,  slaughter  houses  and  markets, 
tumble-down  shanties,  weedy  corner  lots  and  "  refresh 
ment-houses"  that  announced  "Lager  Beer,  Wines  and 
Liquors."  At  last  they  came  to  a  region  which  was 
neither  country  nor  city,  where  the  road-houses  were  still 
in  evidence,  where  the  glass  roofs  of  greenhouses  caught 
the  burning  rays  of  the  sun,  where  yards  filled  with  marble 
blocks  and  half-finished  tombstones  appeared,  and  then 
they  turned  into  the  gates  of  Winterbourne. 

Like  the  city  itself,  there  was  a  fashionable  district  in 
Winterbourne :  unlike  the  city,  this  district  remained 
stationary.  There  was  no  soot  here,  and  if  there  had  been, 
the  dead  would  not  have  minded  it.  They  passed  the 
Prestons  and  the  Parrs ;  the  lots  grew  smaller,  the  tomb 
stones  less  pretentious ;  and  finally  they  came  to  an  open 
grave  on  a  slope  where  the  trees  were  still  young,  and 
where  three  men  of  the  cemetery  force  lifted  the  coffin 
from  the  hearse  —  Richard  Garvin's  pallbearers. 

John  Hodder  might  not  read  the  service,  but  there  was 
none  to  tell  him  that  the  Gospel  of  John  was  not  written 
for  this  man.  He  stood  on  the  grass  beside  the  grave, 
and  a  breeze  from  across  the  great  river  near  by  stirred 
the  maple  leaves  above  his  head.  "  I  am  the  resurrection 


WINTERBOURNE  197 

and  the  life,  saitli  the  Lord  ;  he  that  believeth  in  me,  though 
he  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live."  Nor  was  there  any  canon 
to  forbid  the  words  of  Paul :  "  It  is  sown  in  corruption  ;  it 
is  raised  in  incorruption  ;  it  is  sown  in  dishonour  ;  it  is  raised 
in  glory;  it  is  sown  in  weakness;  it  is  raised  in  power ;  it 
is  sown  a  natural  body  ;  it  is  raised  a  spiritual  body." 

They  laid  the  flowers  on  the  fresh  earth,  even  the  white 
roses,  and  then  they  drove  back  to  the  city. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

SATURDAY   AFTERNOON 


THE  sight  of  a  certain  old  gentleman  as  he  walked  along 
the  shady  side  of  Twenty-second  Street  about  two  o'clock 
on  a  broiling  Saturday  afternoon  in  midsummer  was  one  not 
easily  to  be  forgotten.  A  younger  man,  tall  and  vigorous, 
clad  in  a  thin  suit  of  blue  serge,  walked  by  his  side.  They 
were  followed  by  a  shouting  troop  of  small  boys  who  over 
ran  the  pavements,  and  some  of  whom  were  armed  with 
baseball  bats.  The  big  trolley  car  was  hailed  by  a  dozen 
dirty  little  hands. 

Even  the  grumpy  passengers  were  disarmed.  The  con 
ductor  took  Mr.  Bentley's  bill  deprecatingly,  as  much  as 
to  say  that  the  newly  organized  Traction  Company  —  just 
out  of  the  receivers'  hands  —  were  the  Moloch,  not  he,  and 
rang  off  the  fares  under  protest.  And  Mr.  Bentley,  as 
had  been  his  custom  for  years,  sat  down  and  took  off  his 
hat,  and  smiled  so  benignly  at  those  around  him  that  they 
immediately  began  to  talk  to  him.  It  was  always  irresist 
ible,  this  desire  to  talk  to  Mr.  Bentley.  If  you  had  left 
your  office  irritated  and  out  of  sorts,  your  nerves  worn  to 
an  edge  by  the  uninterrupted  heat,  you  invariably  got  off 
at  your  corner  feeling  better.  It  was  Phil  Goodrich  who 
had  said  that  Horace  Bentley  had  only  to  get  on  a  Tower 
Street  car  to  turn  it  into  a  church.  And  if  he  had  chosen 
to  establish  that  dernier  cri  of  modern  civilization  where 
ladies  go  who  have  welt-schmerz  without  knowing  why,  — 
a  sanitarium,  he  might  have  gained  back  again  all  the 
money  he  had  lost  in  giving  his  Grantham  stock  to  Eldoo 
Parr. 


A   SATURDAY  AFTERNOON  199 

Like  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  he  could  have  emptied 
Dalton  Street  of  its  children.  In  the  first  place,  there  was 
the  irresistible  inducement  to  any  boy  to  ride  several 
miles  on  a  trolley  without  having  this  right  challenged  by 
the  irate  guardian  of  the  vehicle,  without  being  summarily 
requested  to  alight  at  twenty -five  miles  an  hour :  in  the 
second  place,  there  was  the  soda  water  and  sweet  biscuit 
partaken  of  after  the  baseball  game  in  that  pavilion,  more 
imposing  in  one's  eyes  than  the  Taj  Mahal.  Mr.  Bentley 
would  willingly  have  taken  all  Dalton  Street.  He  had 
his  own  welt-sclimerz,  though  he  did  not  go  to  a  sanitarium 
to  cure  it ;  he  was  forced  to  set  an  age  limit  of  ten,  and 
then  establish  a  high  court  of  appeal ;  for  there  were  boys 
whose  biographies,  if  they  are  ever  written,  will  be  as  hazy 
as  those  of  certain  world-wide  celebrities  who  might  be 
mentioned  concerning  the  date  and  exact  spot  of  the  en 
trance  of  their  heroes  into  the  light.  The  solemn  protesta 
tions,  the  tears,  the  recrimination  even,  brought  pangs  to 
the  old  gentleman's  heart,  for  with  all  the  will  in  the  world 
he  had  been  forced  in  the  nature  of  things,  to  set  a  limit. 

This  limit  had  recently  been  increased  by  the  unlooked- 
for  appearance  on  these  excursions  of  the  tall  man  in  the 
blue  serge  suit,  whose  knowledge  of  the  national  game  and 
of  other  matters  of  vital  import  to  youth  was  gratifying 
if  sometimes  disconcerting;  who  towered,  an  unruffled 
Gulliver,  over  their  Lilliputian  controversies,  in  which 
bats  were  waved  and  fists  brought  into  play  and  language 
used  on  the  meaning  of  which  the  Century  dictionary  is 
silent.  On  one  former  occasion,  indeed,  Mr.  Bentley  had 
found  moral  suasion,  affection,  and  veneration  of  no  avail, 
and  had  had  to  invoke  the  friendly  aid  of  a  park  policeman 
to  quell  one  of  these  incipient  riots.  To  Mr.  Bentley 
baseball  was  as  a  sealed  book.  The  tall  man's  justice,  not 
always  worthy  of  the  traditions  of  Solomon,  had  in  it  an  ele 
ment  of  force.  To  be  lifted  off  the  ground  by  strong  arms 
at  the  moment  you  are  about  to  dust  the  home  plate  with 
your  adversary  is  humiliating,  but  effective.  It  gradually 
became  apparent  that  a  decision  was  a  decision.  And  one 
Saturday  this  inexplicable  person  carried  in  his  hand  a 


200  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

mysterious  package  which,  when  opened,  revealed  two  pairs 
of  diminutive  boxing  gloves.  They  instantly  became 
popular. 

By  the  time  they  had  made  the  accidental  and  some 
what  astounding  discovery  that  he  was  a  parson,  they  were 
willing  to  overlook  it;  in  view,  perhaps,  of  his  compensat 
ing  accomplishments.  Instead  of  advising  them  to  turn 
the  other  cheek,  he  taught  them  uppercuts,  feints,  and 
jabs,  and  on  the  proof  of  this  unexpected  acquaintance 
with  a  profession  all  of  them  openly  admired,  the  last  ves 
tige  of  reserve  disappeared.  He  was  accepted  without 
qualifications. 


Although  the  field  to  which  they  resorted  was  not  in  the 
most  frequented  section  of  the  park,  pedestrians  often 
passed  that  way,  and  sometimes  lingered.  Thus,  to  wards  the 
close  of  a  certain  Saturday  in  July,  a  young  woman  walked 
out  of  the  wood  path  and  stood  awhile  gazing  intently  at 
the  active  figure  striding  among  the  diminutive,  darting 
forms.  Presently,  with  an  amused  expression,  she  turned 
her  head  to  discover  Mr.Bentley,  who  sat  on  a  green  bench 
under  a  tree,  his  hat  and  stick  on  the  grass  beside  him. 
She  was  unaware  that  he  had  been  looking  at  her. 

"  Aren't  they  having  a  good  time ! "  she  said,  and  the 
genuine  thrill  in  her  voice  betrayed  a  rare  and  unmistak 
able  pleasure. 

"  Ah,"  replied  Mr.  Bentley,  smiling  back  at  her,  "  you 
like  to  see  them,  too.  Most  persons  do.  Children  are 
not  meant  for  the  city,  my  dear  young  lady,  their  natural 
home  is  in  the  woods  and  fields,  and  these  little  fellows 
are  a  proof  of  it.  When  they  come  out  here,  they  run 
wild.  You  perceive,"  he  added  with  a  twinkle,  as  an  ex 
pletive  of  unquestionable  vigour  was  hurled  across  the 
diamond,  "they  are  not  always  so  polite  as  they  might 
be." 

The  young  woman  smiled  again,  but  the  look  she  gave 
him  was  a  puzzled  one.  And  then,  quite  naturally,  she 


A   SATURDAY   AFTERNOON  201 

sank  down  on  the  grass,  on  the  other  side  of  Mr.  Bentley's 
hat,  watching  the  game  for  a  while  in  silence. 

"  What  a  tyrant  ! "  she  exclaimed.  Another  uproar 
had  been  quelled,  and  two  vigorously  protesting  runners 
sent  back  to  their  former  bases. 

"  Oh,  a  benevolent  tyrant,"  Mr.  Bentley  corrected  her. 
44  Mr.  Hodder  has  the  gift  of  managing  boys,  —  he  under 
stands  them.  And  they  require  a  strong  hand.  His  gen 
eration  has  had  the  training  which  mine  lacked.  In  my 
day,  at  college,  we  worked  off  our  surplus  energy  on  the 
unfortunate  professors,  and  we  carried  away  chapel  bells 
and  fought  with  the  townspeople." 

It  required  some  effort,  she  found,  to  imagine  this 
benevolent  looking  old  gentleman  assaulting  professors. 

44  Nowadays  they  play  baseball  and  football,  and  box." 
He  pointed  to  the  boxing  gloves  on  the  grass,  44  Mr. 
Hodder  has  taught  them  to  settle  their  differences  in  that 
way  ;  it  is  much  more  sensible." 

She  picked  off  the  white  clover-tops. 

44  So  that  is  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St.  John's,"  she  said. 

44  Ah,  you  know  him,  then?" 

44  I've  met  him,"  she  answered  quietly.  44  Are  these 
children  connected  with  his  church  ?  " 

44  They  are  little  waifs  from  Dalton  Street  and  that 
vicinity,"  said  Mr.  Bentley.  44  Very  few  of  them,  I  should 
imagine,  have  ever  been  inside  of  a  church." 

She  seemed  surprised. 

44 But  —  is  it  his  habit  to  bring  them  out  here?"  The 
old  gentleman  beamed  on  her,  perhaps  with  the  hint  of  a 
smile  at  her  curiosity. 

"  He  has  found  time  for  it,  this  summer.  It  is  very 
good  of  him." 

She  refrained  from  comment  on  this  remark,  falling  into 
reflection,  leaning  back,  with  one  hand  outstretched,  on 
the  grass.  The  game  went  on  vociferously,  the  shrill 
little  voices  piercing  the  silence  of  the  summer  afternoon. 
Mr.  Bentley's  eyes  continued  to  rest  on  her. 

44 Tell  me,"  he  inquired,  after  a  while,  "are  you  not 
Alison  Parr  ?  " 


202  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

She  glanced  up  at  him,  startled. 

"Yes." 

"  I  thought  so,  although  I  have  not  seen  you  since  you 
were  a  little  girl.  I  knew  your  mother  very  well  indeed, 
but  it  is  too  much  to  expect  you  to  remember  me,  after  all 
this  time.  No  doubt  you  have  forgotten  my  name.  I 
am  Mr.  Bentley." 

"  Mr.  Bentley  !  "  she  cried,  sitting  upright  and  gazing 
at  him.  "  How  stupid  of  me  not  to  have  known  you ! 
You  couldn't  have  been  any  one  else." 

It  was  the  old  gentleman's  turn  to  start.  She  rose  im 
pulsively  and  sat  down  on  the  bench  beside  him,  and  his 
hand  trembled  as  he  laid  it  in  hers. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  I  am  still  alive.  But  surely  you  can 
not  remember  me,  Alison  ?  " 

The  old  look  of  almost  stubborn  honesty  he  recalled  in 
the  child  came  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  do — and  I  don't,"  she  said,  perplexed.  "It  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  ought  to  have  recognized  you  when  I  came 
up,  and  yet  I  hadn't  the  slightest  notion  who  you  were. 
I  knew  you  were  somebody." 

He  shook  his  head,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  But  you  have  always  been  a  fact  in  my  existence  —  that 
is  what  I  want  to  say,"  she  went  on.  "  It  must  be  possible 
to  remember  a  person  and  not  recognize  him,  that  is  what 
I  feel.  I  can  remember  you  coming  to  our  house  in  Ran- 
some  Street,  and  how  I  looked  forward  to  your  visits. 
And  you  used  to  have  little  candy  beans  in  your  pockets," 
she  cried.  "  Have  you  now?  " 

His  eyes  were  a  little  dimmed  as  he  reached,  smilingly, 
into  the  skirts  of  a  somewhat  shiny  but  scrupulously 
brushed  coat  and  produced  a  brightly  colored  handful. 
She  took  one,  and  put  it  in  her  mouth. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  how  good  they  were  !  Isn't  it  strange 
how  a  taste  brings  back  events?  I  can  remember  it  all 
as  if  it  were  yesterday,  and  how  I  used  to  sit  on  your 
knee,  and  mother  would  tell  me  not  to  bother  you." 

"And  now  —  you  are  grown,"  he  said. 

"  Something  more  than  grown,"  she  smiled.     "  I   was 


A   SATURDAY   AFTERNOON  203 

thirty-one  in  May.  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  choosing  another 
of  the  beans  which  he  still  absently  held,  "  do  you  get  them 
for  these?"  And  she  nodded  toward  the  Dalton  Street  waifs. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "they  are  children,  too." 

"  I  can  remember,"  she  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  can  re 
member  my  mother  speaking  of  you  to  me  the  year  she 
died.  I  was  almost  grown,  then.  It  was  after  we  had 
moved  up  to  Park  Street,  and  her  health  had  already 
begun  to  fail.  That  made  an  impression  on  me,  but  I 
have  forgotten  what  she  said  —  it  was  apropos  of  some 
recollection.  No  —  it  was  a  photograph  —  she  was  going 
over  some  old  things."  Alison  ceased  speaking  abruptly, 
for  the  pain  in  Mr.  Bentley's  remarkable  grey  eyes  had 
not  escaped  her.  What  was  it  about  him?  Why  could 
she  not  recall  ?  Long-forgotten,  shadowy  episodes  of  the 
past  tormented  her,  flitted  provokingly  through  her  mind 
—  ungrasped :  words  dropped  in  her  presence  which  had 
made  their  impression,  but  the  gist  of  which  was  gone. 
Why  had  Mr.  Bentley  ceased  coming  to  the  house  ?  So 
strongly  did  she  feel  his  presence  now  that  the  thought 
occurred  to  her,  —  perhaps  her  mother  had  not  wished  her 
to  forget  him  I 

"  I  did  not  suspect,"  she  heard  him  saying,  "  that  you 
would  go  out  into  the  world  and  create  the  beautiful 
gardens  of  which  I  have  heard.  But  you  had  no  lack  of 
spirit  in  those  days,  too." 

"  I  was  a  most  disagreeable  child,  perverse,  —  cantan 
kerous —  I  can  hear  my  mother  saying  it  I  As  for  the 
gardens  —  they  have  given  me  something  to  do,  they  have 
kept  me  out  of  mischief.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  thank 
ful,  but  I  still  have  the  rebellious  streak  when  I  see  what 
others  have  done,  what  others  are  doing,  and  I  sometimes 
wonder  what  right  I  ever  had  to  think  that  I  might  create 
something  worth  while." 

He  glanced  at  her  quickly  as  she  sat  with  bent  head. 

"  Others  put  a  higher  value  on  what  you  have  done." 

"  Oh,  they  don't  know  — "  she  exclaimed. 

If  something  were  revealed  to  him  by  her  tone,  he  did 
not  betray  it,  but  went  on  cheerfully. 


204  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  You  have  been  away  a  long  time,  Alison.  It  must 
interest  you  to  come  back,  and  see  the  changes  in  our 
Western  civilization.  We  are  moving  very  rapidly  —  in 
certain  directions,"  he  corrected  himself. 

She  appraised  his  qualification. 

"  In  certain  directions,  —  yes.  But  they  are  little  better 
in  the  East.  I  have  scarcely  been  back,"  she  added, 
"  since  I  went  to  Paris  to  study.  I  have  often  thought  I 
should  like  to  return  and  stay  awhile,  only  —  I  never 
seemed  to  get  time.  Now  I  am  going  over  a  garden  for 
my  father  which  was  one  of  my  first  efforts,  and  which 
has  always  reproached  me." 

"  And  you  do  not  mind  the  heat  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Those 
who  go  East  to  live  return  to  find  our  summers  oppres 
sive." 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  salamander,  I  think,"  Alison  laughed. 

Thus  they  sat  chatting,  interrupted  once  or  twice  by 
urchins  too  small  to  join  in  the  game,  who  came  running 
to  Mr.  Bentley  and  stood  staring  at  Alison  as  at  a  being 
beyond  the  borders  of  experience :  and  she  would  smile 
at  them  quite  as  shyly,  —  children  being  beyond  her  own. 
Her  imagination  was  as  keen,  as  unspoiled  as  a  child's, 
and  was  stimulated  by  a  sense  of  adventure,  of  the  mystery 
which  hung  about  this  fine  old  gentleman  who  betrayed 
such  sentiment  for  a  mother  whom  she  had  loved  and  ad 
mired  and  still  secretly  mourned.  Here,  if  there  had 
been  no  other,  was  a  compelling  bond  of  sympathy.  .  .  . 

The  shadows  grew  longer,  the  game  broke  up.  And 
Hodder,  surrounded  by  an  argumentative  group  keeping 
pace  with  him,  came  toward  them  from  the  field ;  Alison 
watched  him  curiously  as  he  turned  this  way  and  that  to 
answer  the  insistent  questions  with  which  he  was  pelted,  and 
once  she  saw  him  stride  rapidly  after  a  dodging  delinquent 
and  seize  him  by  the  collar  amidst  piercing  yells  of  ap 
proval,  and  derision  for  the  rebel. 

"  It's  remarkable  how  he  gets  along  with  them,"  said 
Mr.  Bentley,  smiling  at  the  scene.  "  Most  of  them  have 
never  known  what  discipline  is." 

The  chorus  approached.     And  Hodder,  recognizing  her, 


A   SATURDAY   AFTERNOON  205 

dropped  the  collar  he  held.  A  young  woman  conversing 
with  Mr.  Bentley  was  no  unusual  sight,  —  he  had  made  no 
speculations  as  to  this  one's  identity.  He  left  the  boys, 
and  drew  near. 

"  You  know  Miss  Parr,  I  believe,"  the  old  gentleman 
said. 

Hodder  took  her  hand.  He  had  often  tried  to  imagine 
his  feelings  if  he  should  meet  her  again:  what  he  should 
do  and  say,  —  what  would  be  their  footing.  And  now  he 
had  no  time  to  prepare.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  so  strange,"  she  said,  with  that  note  of  wonder  at 
life  in  her  voice  which  he  recalled  so  well,  "  that  I  should 
have  come  across  Mr.  Bentley  here  after  so  many  years. 
How  many  years,  Mr.  Bentley?  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  he  protested,  "  my  measurements  would 
not  be  yours." 

"  It  is  better  for  both  of  us  not  to  say,"  Alison  declared, 
laughingly. 

"  You  knew  Mr.  Bentley?  "  asked  Hodder,  astonished. 

"  He  was  a  very  dear  friend  of  my  mother's,  although  I 
used  to  appropriate  him  when  he  came  to  our  house.  It 
was  when  we  lived  in  Ransome  Street,  ages  ago.  But  I 
don't  think  Mr.  Bentley  has  grown  a  bit  older." 

"  He  is  one  of  the  few  who  have  found  the  secret  of 
youth,"  said  the  rector. 

But  the  old  gentleman  had  moved  off  into  the  path,  — 
or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  accurate  to  say  that  he  was 
carried  off  by  the  swarm  which  clustered  around  him,  two 
smaller  ones  tugging  at  his  hand,  and  all  intent  upon 
arriving  at  the  soda-water  pavilion  near  the  entrance. 
They  had  followed  him  with  their  eyes,  and  they  saw  him 
turn  around  and  smile  at  them,  helplessly.  Alison  pre 
sented  a  perplexed  face  to  Hodder. 

"  Does  he  bring  them  here,  —  or  you  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  -  "  he  hesitated.  "  Mr.  Bentley  has  done  this  every 
Saturday  afternoon  for  years,"  he  said,  "  I  am  merely  one 
of  them." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  They  had  started  to  follow, 
in  the  cool  path  beneath  the  forest  trees.  Restraint  fell 


206  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

upon  them,  brought  about  by  the  memory  of  the  intimacy 
of  their  former  meeting,  further  complicated  on  Hodder's 
part  by  his  new  attitude  toward  her  father,  and  his  finding 
her  in  the  company,  of  all  persons,  of  Mr.  Bentley.  Un- 
uttered  queries  pressed  on  the  minds  of  both. 

"  Tell  me  about  Mr.  Bentley,"  she  said. 

Hodder  hesitated. 

"  I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin,"  he  replied,  yet  smil 
ing  at  the  characteristic  abruptness  of  her  question.  The 
modulations  of  her  voice  revealed  again  the  searching, 
inquisitive  spirit  within  her,  and  his  responded  to  the 
intensity  of  the  interest  in  Mr.  Bentley. 

"  Begin  anywhere." 

"  Anywhere?  "  he  repeated,  seeking  to  gain  time. 

"  Yes  —  anywhere,"  she  said  impatiently. 

"  Well,  he  lives  in  Dalton  Street,  if  you  recall  what  kind 
of  a  place  that  is"  (she  nodded),  "and  he  is  known  from 
one  end  of  it  to  the  other." 

"  I  see  what  he  is —  he  is  the  most  extraordinary  person  I 
have  ever  known.  Just  to  talk  to  him  gives  one  such  a 
queer  feeling  of  —  of  dissatisfaction  with  one's  self,  and 
seeing  him  once  more  seems  to  have  half  revived  in  me  a 
whole  series  of  dead  memories.  And  I  have  been  trying 
to  think,  but  it  is  all  so  tantalizing.  There  is  some  mystery 
about  him,"  she  insisted.  "  He  disappeared  suddenly,  and 
my  mother  never  mentioned  him  but  once  afterward,  but 
other  persons  have  spoken  of  him  since  —  I  forget  who. 
He  was  so  well  known,  and  he  used  to  go  to  St.  John's." 

"  Yes,  he  used  to  go  to  St.  John's." 

"  What  happened  to  him  —  do  you  know?  The  reason 
he  stopped  coming  to  our  house  was  some  misunderstanding 
with  my  father,  of  course.  I  am  positive  my  mother  never 
changed  her  feelings  toward  him." 

"  I  can  only  tell  you  what  he  has  told  me,  which  is  all  I 
know  —  authoritatively,"  Hodder  replied.  How  could  he 
say  to  her  that  her  father  had  ruined  Mr.  Bentley?  Indeed, 
with  a  woman  of  her  fearlessness  and  honesty  —  and  above 
all,  her  intuition,  —  he  felt  the  cruelty  of  his  position 
keenly.  Hodder  did  not  relish  half  truths;  and  he  felt 


A   SATURDAY   AFTERNOON  207 

that,  however  scant  his  intercourse  in  the  future  might  be 
with  Alison  Parr,  he  would  have  liked  to  have  kept  it  on 
that  basis  of  frankness  in  which  it  had  begun.  But  the 
exact  stage  of  disillusionment  she  had  reached  in  regard 
to  Eldon  Parr  was  unknown  to  him,  and  he  feared  that  a 
further  revelation  might  possibly  sever  the  already  pre 
carious  tie  between  father  and  daughter. 

He  recounted,  therefore,  that  Mr.  Bentley  had  failed; 
and  how  he  had  before  that  given  much  of  his  estate  away 
in  charity,  how  he  had  been  unable  to  keep  his  pew  in  St. 
John's,  and  had  retired  to  the  house  in  Dalton  Street. 

For  some  moments  after  he  had  finished  Alison  did  not 
reply. 

"  What  is  his  number  in  Dalton  Street  ?  "  she  asked. 

Hodder  informed  her. 

He  could  not  read  in  her  face  whether  she  suspected 
that  he  could  have  told  her  more.  And  in  spite  of  an  in 
ordinate,  human  joy  in  being  again  in  her  presence,  his 
desire  to  hide  from  her  that  which  had  taken  place  within 
him,  and  the  inability  he  felt  to  read  his  future,  were  in 
stinctive  :  the  more  so  because  of  the  very  spontaneity  they 
had  achieved  at  their  first  meeting.  As  a  man,  he  shrank 
from  confessing  to  her,  however  indirectly,  the  fact  that 
she  herself  was  so  vital  an  element  in  his  disillusionment. 
For  the  conversation  in  the  garden  had  been  the  immediate 
cause  of  the  inner  ferment  ending  in  his  resolution  to  go 
away,  and  had  directed  him,  by  logical  steps,  to  the  en 
counter  in  the  church  with  Mrs.  Garvin.  .  .  . 

"  You  have  not  yet  finished  the  garden?  "  he  asked.  "  I 
imagined  you  back  in  the  East  by  this  time." 

"  Oh,  I  am  procrastinating,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  a  fit  of 
sheer  laziness.  I  ought  to  be  elsewhere,  but  I  was  born 
without  a  conscience.  If  I  had  one  I  should  try  to  quiet 
it  by  reminding  it  that  I  am  fulfilling  a  long-delayed  prom 
ise  —  I  am  making  a  garden  for  Mrs.  Larrabbee.  You 
know  her,  of  course,  since  she  is  a  member  of  your  congre 
gation." 

"Yes,  I  know  her,"  he  assented.  And  his  mind  was 
suddenly  filled  with  vivid  colour,  —  cobalt  seas,  and  arsenic- 


208  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

green  spruces  with  purple  cones,  cardinal-striped  awnings 
that  rattled  in  the  salt  breeze,  and  he  saw  once  more  the 
panorama  of  the  life  which  had  passed  from  him  and  the 
woman  in  the  midst  of  it.  And  his  overwhelming  thought 
was  of  relief  that  he  had  somehow  escaped.  In  spite  of 
his  unhappiness  now,  he  would  not  have  gone  back.  He 
realized  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  been  nearer  annihila 
tion  then  than  to-day. 

"  Grace  isn't  here  to  bother  me  with  the  ideas  she  has 
picked  up  in  Europe  and  catalogued,"  Alison  continued. 

"  Catalogued  !  "  Hodder  exclaimed,  struck  by  the  per 
tinency  of  the  word. 

"  Yes.  Did  you  ever  know  anybody  who  had  suc 
ceeded  half  so  well  in  piecing  together  and  absorbing  into 
a  harmonized  whole  all  the  divergent,  artificial  elements 
that  enter  into  the  conventional  world  to-day  ?  Her  char 
acter  might  be  called  a  triumph  of  synthesis.  For  she 
has  actually  achieved  an  individuality  —  that  is  what 
always  surprises  me  when  I  think  of  her.  She  has  put 
the  puzzle  picture  together,  she  has  become  a  person." 

He  remembered,  with  a  start,  that  this  was  the  exact 
word  Mrs.  Larrabbee  had  used  about  Alison  Parr.  If  he 
had  searched  the  world,  he  could  not  have  found  a  greater 
contrast  than  that  between  these  two  women.  And  when 
she  spoke  again,  he  was  to  be  further  struck  by  her  power 
of  logical  insight. 

"  Grace  wants  me  because  she  thinks  I  have  become  the 
fashion  —  for  the  same  reason  that  Charlotte  Plimpton 
wants  me.  Only  there  is  this  difference  —  Grace  will 
know  the  exact  value  of  what  I  shall  have  done.  Not 
that  she  thinks  me  a  Le  Notre" — Alison  laughed —  "What 
I  mean  is,  she  sees  behind,  she  sees  why  it  is  fashionable 
to  have  a  garden,  since  she  has  worked  out  the  values  of 
that  existence.  But  there  !  "  Alison  added,  with  a  pro 
vocative  touch  that  did  not  escape  him,  "  I  am  picking 
your  parishioners  to  pieces  again." 

" You  have  more  right  than  I,"  he  replied,  "they  have 
been  your  friends  since  childhood." 

"  I  thought  you  had  gone  away,"  she  said. 


A   SATURDAY   AFTERNOON  209 

"Why?"  he  demanded.  Had  she  been  to  church 
again  ? 

"My  father  told  me  before  he  left  that  you  were  to 
take  a  cruise  with  him  on  the  yacht  he  has  chartered." 

"  He  wrote  me  from  New  York  —  I  was  unable  to  go," 
Hodder  said  slowly. 

He  felt  her  gaze  upon  him,  but  resolutely  refused  to 
meet  it.  ...  They  walked  on  in  silence  until  they  came 
to  the  more  open  spaces  near  the  edge  of  the  Park, 
thronged  that  Saturday  evening  by  crowds  which  had 
sought  the  city's  breathing  space.  Perfect  trees  cast 
long,  fantastic  shadows  across  the  lawns,  fountains  flung 
up  rainbows  from  the  midst  of  lakes  ;  children  of  the 
tenements  darted  hither  and  thither,  rolled  and  romped  on 
the  grass  ;  family  parties  picnicked  everywhere,  and  a 
very  babel  of  tongues  greeted  the  ear  —  the  languages  of 
Europe  from  Sweden  to  Italy. 

Suddenly  an  exclamation  from  her  aroused  and  thrilled 
him. 

"  Isn't  it  wonderful  how  happy  they  are,  and  with  what 
simple  pleasures  they  are  satisfied  !  I  often  come  over 
here  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays,  just  to  talk  to  them." 

"  Talk  to  them  I  "  he  echoed  stupidly.  "  In  their  own 
languages?." 

u  Oh,  I  know  a  little  German  and  Italian,  though  I 
can't  lay  claim  to  Czech,"  she  answered  gayly.  "  Why  are 
you  so  surprised  that  I  should  possess  such  modest  accom 
plishments  ?  " 

"It's  not  the  accomplishments."     He  hesitated. 

"  No.  You  are  surprised  that  I  should  be  interested  in 
humanity."  She  stood  facing  him.  "  Well,  I  am,"  she 
said,  half  humorously,  half  defiantly.  "  I  believe  I  am 
more  interested  in  human  beings  than  in  anything  else  in 
the  world  —  when  they  are  natural,  as  these  people  are 
and  when  they  will  tell  one  their  joys  and  their  troubles 
and  their  opinions." 

Enthusiasm,  self-assertion,  had  as  usual,  transformed 
her,  and  he  saw  the  colour  glowing  under  her  olive  skin. 
Was  she  accusing  him  of  a  lack  of  frankness  ? 


210  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  And  why,"  he  asked,  collecting  himself,  "  did  you 
think "  he  got  no  further. 

"  It's  because  you  have  an  idea  that  I'm  a  selfish  Epi 
curean,  if  that  isn't  tautology  —  because  I'm  interested  in 
a  form  of  art,  the  rest  of  the  world  can  go  hang.  You 
have  a  prejudice  against  artists.  I  wish  I  really  were 
one,  but  I'm  not." 

This  speech  contained  so  many  surprises  for  him  that 
he  scarcely  knew  how  to  answer  it. 

"  Give  me  a  little  time,"  he  begged,  "  and  perhaps  I'll 
get  over  my  prejudices.  The  worst  of  them,  at  any  rate. 
You  are  helping  me  to  do  so."  He  tried  to  speak  lightly, 
but  his  tone  was  more  serious  in  the  next  sentence.  "  It 
seems  to  me  personally  that  you  have  proved  your  concern 
for  your  fellow-creatures." 

Her  colour  grew  deeper,  her  manner  changed. 

"  That  gives  me  the  opportunity  to  say  something  I 
have  hoped  to  say,  ever  since  I  saw  you.  I  hoped  I 
should  see  you  again." 

"  You  are  not  going  away  soon  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  words  were  spoken  before  he  grasped  their  signifi 
cance. 

"  Not  at  once.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  shall  stay," 
she  answered  hurriedly,  intent  upon  what  was  in  her 
mind.  "I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  what  I  said 
to  you  that  afternoon,  and  I  find  it  more  than  ever  diffi 
cult  to  excuse  myself.  I  shan't  attempt  to.  I  merely 
mean  to  ask  you  to  forgive  me." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  assured  her,  under 
the  influence  of  the  feeling  she  had  aroused. 

"  It's  nice  of  you  to  say  so,  and  to  take  it  as  you  did  — 
nicer  than  I  can  express.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never  learn 
to  appreciate  that  there  may  be  other  points  of  view 
toward  life  than  my  own.  And  I  should  have  realized  and 
sympathized  with  the  difficulties  of  your  position,  and 
that  you  were  doing  the  best  under  the  circumstances." 

"No,"  he  exclaimed,  "don't  say  that!  Your  other 
instinct  was  the  truer  one,  if  indeed  you  have  really 
changed  it  —  I  don't  believe  you  have."  He  smiled  at 


A   SATURDAY  AFTEKNOON  211 

her  again.  "  You  didn't  hurt  my  feelings,  you  did  me  a 
service.  I  told  you  so  at  the  time,  and  I  meant  it.  And, 
more  than  that,  I  understood." 

"  You  understood ?  " 

"  You  were  not  criticizing  me,  you  were  —  what  shall  I 
gay  ?  —  merely  trying  to  iron  out  some  of  the  inconsist 
encies  of  life.  Well,  you  helped  me  to  iron  out  some  of 
the  inconsistencies  of  my  own.  I  am  profoundly  grate 
ful." 

She  gazed  at  him,  puzzled.  But  he  did  not,  he  could 
not  enlighten  her.  Some  day  she  would  discover  what  he 
meant. 

"  If  so,  I  am  glad,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

They  were  standing  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  that 
thronged  around  the  pavilion.  An  urchin  caught  hold  of 
the  rector's  coat. 

"  Here  he  is  !  Say,  Mr.  Hodder,  ain't  you  going  to 
have  any  sody  ?  " 

"  Certainly  we  are,"  he  replied,  returning  Alison's  faint 
smile.  ...  In  the  confusion  that  followed  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  talking  to  Mr.  Bentley  ;  and  later,  after 
he  had  taken  her  hand,  his  eyes  followed  her  figure  wend 
ing  its  way  in  the  evening  light  through  the  groups 
toward  Park  Street,  and  he  saw  above  the  tree-tops  the 
red  tiled  roof  of  the  great  house  in  which  she  was  living, 
alone. 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE   CKUCIBLE 


FOR  better  or  worse,  John  Hodder  had  flung  his  treas 
ured  beliefs  into  the  crucible,  and  one  by  one  he  watched 
them  crumble  and  consume  away.  None  but  his  own 
soul  knew  what  it  cost  him  to  make  the  test ;  and  some 
times,  in  the  early  stages  of  it,  he  would  cast  down  his 
book  under  the  lamp  and. walk  for  hours  in  the  night. 
Curiosity,  and  the  despair  of  one  who  is  lost  impelled  him. 
to  persist. 

It  had  been  said  of  him  that  he  had  a  talent  for  the  law, 
and  he  now  discovered  that  his  mind,  once  freed,  weighed 
the  evidence  with  a  pitiless  logic,  paid  its  own  tribute  — 
despite  the  anguish  of  the  heart —  to  the  pioneers  of  truth 
whose  trail  it  followed  into  the  Unknown,  who  had  held 
no  Mystery  more  sacred  than  Truth  itself,  who  had  dared 
to  venture  into  the  nothingness  between  the  whirling 
worlds. 

He  considered  them,  those  whirling  worlds,  at  night. 
Once  they  had  been  the  candles  of  Jehovah,  to  light  the 
path  of  his  chosen  nation,  to  herald  the  birth  of  his  Son. 
And  now  ?  How  many  billions  of  blind,  struggling  crea 
tures  clung  to  them  ?  Where  now  was  this  pin-point  of 
humanity,  in  the  midst  of  an  appalling  spectacle  of  a 
grinding,  remorseless  nature  ? 

And  that  obscure  Event  on  which  he  had  staked  his 
hopes  ?  Was  He,  as  John  had  written,  the  First  Born  of 
the  Universe,  the  Word  Incarnate  of  a  system  that  defied 
time  and  space,  the  Logos  of  an  outworn  philosophy  ? 
Was  that  Universe  conscious,  as  Berkeley  had  declared, 

212 


THE   CRUCIBLE  213 

or  the  blind  monster  of  substance  alone,  or  energy,  as 
some  modern  scientists  brutally  and  triumphantly  main 
tained  ?  Where  was  the  Spirit  that  breathed  in  it  of 
hope? 

Such  were  some  of  the  questions  that  thronged  for  solu 
tion.  What  was  mind,  what  spirit  ?  an  attenuated 
vapour  of  the  all-pervading  substance  ? 

He  could  not  permit  himself  to  dwell  on  these  thoughts 
—  madness  lay  that  way.  Madness,  and  a  watching 
demon  that  whispered  of  substance,  and  sought  to  guide 
his  wanderings  in  the  night.  Hodder  clung  to  the  shell 
of  reality,  to  the  tiny  panorama  of  the  visible  and  the 
finite,  to  the  infinitesimal  gropings  that  lay  recorded  be 
fore  him  on  the  printed  page.  Let  him  examine  these 
first,  let  him  discover  —  despite  the  price  —  what  warrant 
the  mind  of  man  (the  only  light  now  vouchsafed  to  him 
in  his  darkness)  gave  him  to  speculate  and  to  hope  con 
cerning  the  existence  of  a  higher,  truer  Reality  than  that 
which  now  tossed  and  wounded  him.  It  were  better  to 
know. 

Scarcely  had  the  body  been  lifted  from  the  tree  than 
the  disputes  commenced,  the  adulterations  crept  in.  The 
spontaneity,  the  fire  and  zeal  of  the  self-sacrificing  itiner 
ant  preachers  gave  place  to  the  paralyzing  logic  then  per 
vading  the  Roman  Empire,  and  which  had  sent  its  curse 
down  the  ages  to  the  modern  sermon ;  the  geometrical  rules 
of  Euclid  were  made  to  solve  the  secrets  of  the  universe. 
The  simple  faith  of  the  cross  which  had  inspired  the  martyr 
along  the  bloody  way  from  Ephesus  to  the  Circus  at 
Rome  was  formalized  by  degrees  into  philosophy :  the  faith 
of  future  ages  was  settled  by  compromises,  by  manipula 
tion,  by  bribery  in  Councils  of  the  Church  which  resembled 
modern  political  conventions,  and  in  which  pagan  Emper 
ors  did  not  hesitate  to  exert  their  influence  over  the  meta 
physical  bishops  of  the  factions.  Recriminations,  execu 
tions,  murders  —  so  the  chronicles  ran. 

The  prophet,  the  idealist  disappeared,  the  priest  with 
his  rites  and  ceremonies  and  sacrifices,  his  power  to  save 
and  damn,  was  once  more  in  possession  of  the  world. 


214  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

The  Son  of  Man  was  degraded  into  an  infant  in  his 
mother's  arms.  An  unhealthy,  degenerating  asceticism, 
drawn  from  pagan  sources,  began  with  the  monks  and 
anchorites  of  Egypt  and  culminated  in  the  spectacle  of 
Simeon's  pillar.  The  mysteries  of  Eleusis,  of  Attis,  Mith 
ras,  Magna  Mater  and  Isis  developed  into  Christian  sac 
raments — the  symbol  became  the  thing  itself.  Baptism, 
the  confession  of  the  new  life,  following  the  customs 
of  these  cults,  became  initiation;  and  from  the  same  su 
perstitious  origins,  the  repellent  materialistic  belief  that 
to  eat  of  the  flesh  and  drink  of  the  blood  of  a  god  was  to 
gain  immortality :  immortality  of  the  body,  of  course. 

Ah,  when  the  superstitions  of  remote  peoples,  the  fables 
and  myths,  were  taken  away ;  when  the  manufactured 
history  and  determinism  of  the  Israelites  from  the  fall  of 
man  to  the  coming  of  that  Messiah,  whom  the  Jews  crucified 
because  he  failed  to  bring  them  their  material  Kingdom, 
were  discredited ;  when  the  polemic  and  literal  interpre 
tations  of  evangelists  had  been  rejected,  and  the  pious 
frauds  of  tampering  monks ;  when  the  ascetic  Buddhism 
was  removed;  the  cults  and  mysteries,  the  dogmas  of  an 
ancient  naive  philosophy  discarded;  the  crude  science  of 
a  Ptolemy  who  conceived  the  earth  as  a  flat  terrestrial  ex 
panse  and  hell  as  a  smoking  pit  beneath  proved  false  ;  the 
revelation  of  a  Holy  City  of  jasper  and  gold  and  crystal, 
the  hierarchy  with  its  divine  franchise  to  save  and  rule 
and  conquer,  —  when  all  these  and  more  were  eliminated 
from  Christianity,  what  was  left? 

Hodder  surveyed  the  ruins.  And  his  mind  recalled 
that  Sunday  of  rain  in  New  York  which  had  been  the 
turning-point  in  his  life,  when  he  had  listened  to  the 
preacher,  when  he  had  walked  the  streets  unmindful  of 
the  wet,  led  on  by  visions,  racked  by  fears.  And  the 
same  terror  returned  to  him  now  after  all  the  years  of 
respite,  tenfold  increased,  of  falling  in  the  sight  of  man 
from  the  topmost  tower. 

What  was  to  become  of  him,  now  that  the  very  driving 
power  of  life  was  gone?  Where  would  he  go?  to  what 


THE  CRUCIBLE  215 

might  he  turn  his  hand,  since  all  were  vanity  and  illusion? 
Careers  meant  nothing,  had  any  indeed  been  possible  to  a 
man  forty,  left  staring  at  stark  reality  after  the  rainbow 
had  vanished.  Nineveh  had  mocked  and  conquered  him 
who  had  thought  himself  a  conqueror.  Self  flew  back 
and  swung  on  its  central  pivot  and  took  command.  His 
future,  his  fate,  what  was  to  become  of  him?  Who  else 
now  was  to  be  considered?  And  what  was  to  restrain 
him  from  reaching  out  his  hand  to  pluck  the  fruit  which 
he  desired?  . 


n 

What  control  from  the  Unknown  is  this  which  now  de 
presses  and  now  releases  the  sensitive  thing  called  the 
soul  of  man,  and  sends  it  upward  again  until  the  green 
light  of  hope  shines  through  the  surface  water  ?  He 
might  have  grown  accustomed,  Hodder  thought,  to  the 
obscurity  of  the  deeps ;  in  which,  after  a  while,  the  sharp 
agony  of  existence  became  dulled,  the  pressure  benumbing. 
He  was  conscious  himself,  at  such  times,  of  no  inner  re 
cuperation.  Something  drew  him  up,  and  he  would  find 
himself  living  again,  at  length  to  recognize  the  hand  if 
not  to  comprehend  the  power. 

The  hand  was  Horace  Bentley's. 

What  was  the  source  of  that  serenity  which  shone  on 
the  face  of  his  friend?  Was  it  the  light  of  faith?  Faith 
in — what?  Humanity,  Mr.  Bentley  had  told  him  on 
that  first  evening  when  they  had  met :  faith  in  a  world 
filled  with  cruelties,  disillusionments,  lies,  and  cheats ! 
On  what  Authority  was  it  based?  Hodder  never  asked, 
and  no  word  of  theology  ever  crossed  Mr.  Bentley's  lips ; 
not  by  so  much  as  a  sign  did  he  betray  any  knowledge  he 
may  have  had  of  the  drama  taking  place  in  Hodder's  soul; 
no  comment  escaped  him  on  the  amazing  anomalies  of  the 
life  the  rector  was  leading,  in  the  Church  but  not  of  it. 

It  was  only  by  degrees  Hodder  came  to  understand  that 
no  question  would  be  asked,  and  the  frequency  of  his  visits 
to  Dalton  Street  increased.  He  directed  his  steps  thither, 


216  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

sometimes  hurriedly,  as  though  pursued,  as  to  a  haven  from 
a  storm.  And  a  haven  it  was  indeed  !  At  all  hours  of  the 
day  he  came,  and  oftener  in  the  night,  in  those  first  weeks, 
and  if  Mr.  Bentley  were  not  at  home  the  very  sight  of  the 
hospitable  old  darky  brought  surging  up  within  him  a  sense 
of  security,  of  relief;  the  library  itself  was  filled  with 
the  peace  of  its  owner.  How  many  others  had  brought 
their  troubles  here,  had  been  lightened  on  the  very  thresh 
old  of  this  sanctuary ! 

Gradually  Hodder  began  to  realize  something  of  their 
numbers.  Gradually,  as  he  was  drawn  more  and  more  into 
the  network  of  the  relationships  of  this  extraordinary 
man,  —  nay,  as  he  inevitably  became  a  part  of  that  net 
work,  —  a  period  of  bewilderment  ensued.  He  found  him 
self  involved,  and  quite  naturally,  in  unpremeditated 
activities,  running  errands,  forming  human  ties  on  a 
human  basis.  No  question  was  asked,  no  credentials  de 
manded  or  rejected.  Who  he  was  made  no  difference  — 
he  was  a  friend  of  Horace  Bentley's.  He  had  less  time  to 
read,  less  time  to  think,  to  scan  the  veil  of  his  future. 

He  had  run  through  a  score  of  volumes,  critical,  philo 
sophical,  scientific,  absorbing  their  contents,  eagerly  antici 
pating  their  conclusions  ;  filled,  once  he  had  begun,  with  a 
mania  to  destroy,  a  savage  determination  to  leave  nothing, 
—  to  level  all.  .  .  . 

And  now,  save  for  the  less  frequent  relapsing  moods,  he 
had  grown  strangely  unconcerned  about  his  future,  con 
tent  to  live  in  the  presence  of  this  man;  to  ignore  com 
pletely  the  aspects  of  a  life  incomprehensible  to  the  few, 
besides  Mr.  Bentley,  who  observed  it. 

What  he  now  mostly  felt  was  relief,  if  not  a  faint  self- 
congratulation  that  he  had  had  the  courage  to  go  through 
with  it,  to  know  the  worst.  And  he  was  conscious  even, 
at  times,  of  a  faint  reviving  sense  of  freedom  he  had  not 
known  since  the  days  at  Bremerton.  If  the  old  dogmas 
were  false,  why  should  he  regret  them  ?  He  began  to  see 
that,  once  he  had  suspected  their  falsity,  not  to  have  in 
vestigated  were  to  invite  decay ;  and  he  pictured  himself 
growing  more  unctuous,  apologetic,  plausible.  He  had, 


THE   CRUCIBLE  217 

at  any  rate,  escaped  the  more  despicable  fate,  and  if  he 
went  to  pieces  now  it  would  be  as  a  man,  looking  the  facts 
in  the  face,  —  not  as  a  coward  and  a  hypocrite. 

Late  one  afternoon,  when  he  dropped  in  at  Mr.  Bentley's 
house,  he  was  informed  by  Sam  that  a  lady  was  awaiting 
Mr.  Bentley  in  the  library.  As  Hodder  opened  the  door 
he  saw  a  tall,  slim  figure  of  a  woman  with  her  back  toward 
him.  She  was  looking  at  the  photographs  on  the 
mantel. 

It  was  Alison  Parr  ! 

He  remembered  now  that  she  had  asked  for  Mr.  Bentley's 
number,  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  might 
one  day  find  her  here.  And  as  she  turned  he  surprised  in 
her  eyes  a  shyness  he  had  never  seen  in  them  before. 
Thus  they  stood  gazing  at  each  other  a  moment  before 
either  spoke. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  you  were  Mr.  Bentley,"  she  said. 

"  Have  you  been  waiting  long?  "  he  asked. 

"  Three  quarters  of  an  hour,  but  I  haven't  minded  it. 
This  is  such  an  interesting  room,  with  its  pictures  and 
relics  and  books.  It  has  a  soothing  effect,  hasn't  it  ?  To 
come  here  is  like  stepping  out  of  the  turmoil  of  the  modern 
world  into  a  peaceful  past." 

He  was  struck  by  the  felicity  of  her  description. 

"  You  have  been  here  before  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes."  She  settled  herself  in  the  armchair ;  and 
Hodder,  accepting  the  situation,  took  the  seat  beside  her. 
"  Of  course  I  came,  after  I  had  found  out  who  Mr.  Bentley 
was.  The  opportunity  to  know  him  again  was  not  to  be 
missed." 

"  I  can  understand  that,"  he  assented. 

"  That  is,  if  a  child  can  even  be  said  to  know  such  a 
person  as  Mr.  Bentley.  Naturally,  I  didn't  appreciate 
him  in  those  days  —  children  merely  accept,  without 
analyzing.  And  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  analyze,  — I 
can  only  speculate  and  consider." 

Her  enthusiasm  never  failed  to  stir  and  excite  Hodder. 
Nor  would  he  have  thought  it  possible  that  a  new  value 
could  be  added  to  Mr.  Bentley  in  his  eyes.  Yet  so  it  was. 


218  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

He  felt  within  him,  as  she  spoke,  the  quickening  of  a 
stimulus. 

"  When  I  came  in  a  little  while  ago,"  Alison  continued, 
"  I  found  a  woman  in  black,  with  such  a  sweet,  sad  face. 
We  began  a  conversation.  She  had  been  through  a  fright 
ful  experience.  Her  husband  had  committed  suicide,  her 
child  had  been  on  the  point  of  death,  and  she  says  that  she 
lies  awake  nights  now  thinking  in  terror  of  what  might 
have  happened  to  her  if  you  and  Mr.  Bentley  hadn't  helped 
her.  She's  learning  to  be  a  stenographer.  Do  you  re 
member  her  ?  — her  name  is  Garvin." 

"  Did  she  say  —  anything  more  ?  "  Hodder  anxiously  de 
manded. 

"No,"  said  Alison,  surprised  by  his  manner,  "except 
that  Mr.  Bentley  had  found  her  a  place  to  live,  near  the 
hospital,  with  a  widow  who  was  a  friend  of  his.  And  that 
the  child  was  well,  and  she  could  look  life  in  the  face 
again.  Oh,  it  is  terrible  to  think  that  people  all  around 
us  are  getting  into  such  straits,  and  that  we  are  so  indif 
ferent  to  it!" 

Hodder  did  not  speak  at  once.  He  was  wondering,  now 
that  she  had  renewed  her  friendship  with  Mr.  Bentley, 
whether  certain  revelations  on  her  part  were  not  inevi 
table.  .  .  . 

She  was  regarding  him,  and  he  was  aware  that  her  curi 
osity  was  aflame.  Again  he  wondered  whether  it  were 
curiosity  or  —  interest. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me,  when  we  met  in  the  Park,  that 
you  were  no  longer  at  St.  John's." 

"  Did  Mr.  Bentley  tell  you  ?  " 

"No.  He  merely  said  he  saw  a  great  deal  of  you. 
Martha  Preston  told  me.  She  is  still  here,  and  goes  to 
church  occasionally.  She  was  much  surprised  to  learn 
that  you  were  in  the  city." 

"  I  am  still  living  in  the  parish  house,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
—  taking  my  vacation." 

"  With  Mr.  Bentley  ?  "    Her  eyes  were  still  on  his  face. 

"  With  Mr.  Bentley,"  he  replied. 

He  had  spoken  without  bitterness.      Although  there 


THE   CRUCIBLE  219 

had  indeed  been  bitterness  in  his  soul,  it  passed  away  in 
the  atmosphere  of  Mr.  Bentley's  house.  The  process  now 
taking  place  in  him  was  the  same  complication  of  negative 
and  positive  currents  he  had  felt  in  her  presence  before. 
He  was  surprised  to  find  that  his  old  antipathy  to  agnosti 
cism  held  over,  in  her  case  ;  to  discover,  now,  that  he  was 
by  no  means,  as  yet,  in  view  of  the  existence  of  Horace 
Bentley,  to  go  the  full  length  of  unbelief !  On  the  other 
hand,  he  saw  that  she  had  divined  much  of  what  had  hap 
pened  to  him,  and  he  felt  radiating  from  her  a  sympathetic 
understanding  which  seemed  almost  a  claim.  She  had  a 
claim,  although  he  could  not  have  said  of  what  it  was  con 
stituted.  Their  personal  relationship  bore  responsibilities. 
It  suddenly  came  over  him,  in  fact,  that  the  two  persons 
who  in  all  the  world  were  nearest  him  were  herself  and  Mr. 
Bentley  !  He  responded,  scarce  knowing  why  he  did  so, 
to  the  positive  current. 

"  With  Mr.  Bentley,"  he  repeated,  smiling,  and  meeting 
her  eyes,  "  I  have  been  learning  something  about  the  actual 
conditions  of  life  in  a  modern  city." 

She  bent  a  little  toward  him  in  one  of  those  spontaneous 
movements  that  characterized  her. 

"  Tell  me  —  what  is  his  life  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  have 
seen  so  little  of  it,  and  he  has  told  me  nothing  himself. 
At  first,  in  the  Park,  I  saw  only  a  kindly  old  gentleman, 
with  a  wonderful,  restful  personality,  who  had  been  a  dear 
friend  of  my  mother's.  I  didn't  connect  those  boys  with 
him.  But  since  then  —  since  I  have  been  here  twice,  I 
have  seen  other  things  which  make  me  wonder  how  far  his 
influence  extends."  She  paused. 

"  I,  too,  have  wondered,"  said  the  rector,  thoughtfully. 
"  When  I  met  him,  I  supposed  he  were  merely  living  in 
simple  relationships  with  his  neighbours  here  in  Dalton 
Street,  but  by  degrees  I  have  discovered  that  his  relation 
ships  are  as  wide  as  the  city  itself.  And  they  have  grown 
naturally  —  by  radiation,  as  it  were.  One  incident  has  led 
to  another,  one  act  of  kindness  to  another,  until  now  there 
seems  literally  no  end  to  the  men  and  women  with  whom 
he  is  in  personal  touch,  who  are  ready  to  do  anything  in 


220  THE   INSIDE    OF   THE   CUP 

their  power  for  him  at  any  time.  It  is  an  institution,  in 
fact,  wholly  unorganized,  which  in  the  final  analysis  is  one 
man.  And  there  is  in  it  absolutely  nothing  of  that  ele 
ment  which  has  come  to  be  known  as  charity." 

Alison  listened  with  parted  lips. 

"  To  give  you  an  example,"  he  went  on,  gradually  be 
coming  fired  by  his  subject,  by  her  absorption,  "since  you 
have  mentioned  Mrs.  Garvin,  I  will  tell  you  what  hap 
pened  in  that  case.  It  is  typical  of  many.  It  was  a 
question  of  taking  care  of  this  woman,  who  was  worn  out 
and  crushed,  until  she  should  recover  sufficiently  to  take 
care  of  herself.  Mr.  Bentley  did  not  need  any  assistance 
from  me  to  get  the  boy  into  the  hospital  —  Dr.  Jarvis 
worships  him.  But  the  mother  !  I  might  possibly  have 
got  her  into  an  institutional  home  —  Mr.  Bentley  did  better 
than  that,  far  better.  On  the  day  of  the  funeral  we  went 
directly  from  the  cemetery  to  the  house  of  a  widow  who 
owns  a  little  fruit  farm  beyond  the  Park.  Her  name  is 
Bledsoe,  and  it  is  not  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  her  house, 
small  as  it  is,  contains  an  endowed  room  always  at  Mr. 
Bentley's  disposal. 

"Mrs.  Garvin  is  there  now.  She  was  received  as  a 
friend,  as  a  guest  — not  as  an  inmate,  a  recipient  of  charity. 
I  shall  never  forget  how  that  woman  ran  out  in  the  sun 
when  she  saw  us  coming,  how  proud  she  was  to  be  able  to 
do  this  thing,  how  she  ushered  us  into  the  little  parlour, 
that  was  all  swept  and  polished,  and  how  naturally  and 
warmly  she  welcomed  the  other  woman,  dazed  and  ex 
hausted,  and  took  her  hat  and  veil  and  almost  carried  her 
up  the  stairs.  And  later  on  I  found  out  from  Miss  Grover, 
who  lives  here,  Mrs.  Bledsoe's  history.  Eight  or  nine 
years  ago  her  husband  was  sent  to  prison  for  forgery,  and 
she  was  left  with  four  small  children,  on  the  verge  of  a  fate 
too  terrible  to  mention.  She  was  brought  to  Mr.  Bentley's 
attention,  and  he  started  her  in  life. 

"  And  now  Mrs.  Garvin  forms  another  link  to  that  chain, 
which  goes  on  growing.  In  a  month  she  will  be  earning 
her  own  living  as  stenographer  for  a  grain  merchant  whom 
Mr.  Bentley  set  on  his  feet  several  years  ago.  One  thing 


THE   CRUCIBLE  221 

has  led  to  the  next.  And  I  doubt  if  any  neighbourhood 
could  be  mentioned,  north  or  south  or  west,  or  even  in  the 
business  portion  of  the  city  itself,  where  men  and  women 
are  not  to  be  found  ready  and  eager  to  do  anything  in  their 
power  for  him.  Of  course  there  have  been  exceptions,  — 
what  might  be  called  failures  in  the  ordinary  terminology 
of  charity,  but  there  are  not  many." 

When  he  had  finished  she  sat  quite  still,  musing  over 
what  he  had  told  her,  her  eyes  alight. 

"  Yes,  it  is  wonderful,"  she  said  at  length,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  Oh,  I  can  believe  in  that,  making  the  world  a  better 
place  to  live  in,  making  people  happier.  Of  course  every 
one  cannot  be  like  Mr.  Bentley,  but  all  may  do  their  share 
in  their  own  way.  If  only  we  could  get  rid  of  this  senseless 
system  of  government  that  puts  a  premium  on  the  acquisi 
tion  of  property!  As  it  is,  we  have  to  depend  on  indi 
vidual  initiative.  Even  the  good  Mr.  Bentley  does  is  a 
drop  in  the  ocean  compared  to  what  might  be  done  if  all 
this  machinery  which  has  been  invented,  if  all  these  dis 
coveries  of  science,  by  which  the  forces  of  an  indifferent 
nature  have  been  harnessed,  could  be  turned  to  the  service 
of  all  mankind.  Think  of  how  many  Mrs,  Garvins,  of 
how  many  Dalton  Streets  there  are  in  the  world,  how  many 
stunted  children  working  in  factories  or  growing  up  into 
criminals  in  the  slums  !  I  was  reading  a  book  just  the 
other  day  on  the  effect  of  the  lack  of  nutrition  on  charac 
ter.  We  are  breeding  a  million  degenerate  citizens  by 
starving  them,  to  say  nothing  of  the  effect  of  disease  and 
bad  air,  of  the  constant  fear  of  poverty  that  haunts  the 
great  majority  of  homes.  There  is  no  reason  why  that 
fear  should  not  be  removed,  why  the  latest  discoveries  in 
medicine  and  science  should  not  be  at  the  disposal  of  all." 

The  genuineness  of  her  passion  was  unmistakable.  His 
whole  being  responded  to  it. 

"  Have  you  always  felt  like  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Like  what  ?  " 

"Indignant —  that  so  many  people  were  suffering." 

His  question  threw  her  into  reflection. 

"  Why,  no,"  she  answered,  at  length,  "  I  never  thought 


222  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

—  I  see  what  you  mean.  Four  or  five  years  ago,  when  1 
was  going  to  socialist  lectures,  my  sense  of  all  this  —  in 
equality,  injustice  was  intellectual.  I  didn't  get  indignant 
over  it,  as  I  do  now  when  I  think  of  it." 

"  And  why  do  you  get  indignant  now  ?  " 

"You  mean,"  she  asked,  "that  I  have  no  right  to  be 
indignant,  since  I  do  nothing  to  attempt  to  better  con 
ditions  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  Hodder  disavowed.  "  Perhaps  my  ques 
tion  is  too  personal,  but  I  didn't  intend  it  to  be.  I  was 
merely  wondering  whether  any  event  or  series  of  events 
had  transformed  a  mere  knowledge  of  these  conditions  into 
feeling." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed,  but  not  in  offence.  Once  more 
she  relapsed  into  thought.  And  as  he  watched  her,  in 
silence,  the  colour  that  flowed  and  ebbed  in  her  cheeks 
registered  the  coming  and  going  of  memories;  of  incidents 
in  her  life  hidden  from  him,  arousing  in  the  man  the  tor 
ture  of  jealousy.  But  his  faculties,  keenly  alert,  grasped 
the  entire  field ;  marked  once  more  the  empirical  trait  in 
her  that  he  loved  —  her  unflinching  willingness  to  submit 
herself  to  an  experiment. 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  replied  at  length,  her  thoughts 
naturally  assuming  speech.  "  Yes,  I  can  see  that  it  is  so. 
Yet  my  experience  has  not  been  with  these  conditions 
with  which  Mr.  Bentley,  with  which  you  have  been 
brought  in  contact,  but  with  the  other  side  —  with  luxury. 
Oh,  I  am  sick  of  luxury  !  I  love  it,  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
that  I  could  do  without  it,  but  I  hate  it,  too,  I  rebel 
against  it.  You  can't  understand  that." 

"  I  think  I  can,"  he  answered  her. 

"  When  I  see  the  creatures  it  makes,"  she  cried,  "  I 
nate  it.  My  profession  has  brought  me  in  such  close 
contact  with  it  that  I  rebelled  at  last,  and  came  out  here 
very  suddenly,  just  to  get  away  from  it  in  the  mass.  To 
renew  my  youth,  if  I  could.  The  gardens  were  only  an 
excuse.  I  had  come  to  a  point  where  I  wanted  to  be 
quiet,  to  be  alone,  to  think,  and  I  knew  my  father  would 
be  going  away.  So  much  of  my  girlhood  was  spent  in 


THE    CRUCIBLE  223 

that  Park  that  I  know  every  corner  of  it,  and  I  —  obeyed 
the  impulse.  I  wanted  to  test  it." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  absorbed. 

"  I  might  have  gone  to  the  mountains  or  the  sea,  but 
some  one  would  have  come  and  found  me,  and  I  should 
have  been  bound  again — on  the  wheel.  I  shouldn't 
have  had  the  strength  to  resist.  But  here  —  have  you 
ever  felt,"  she  demanded,  "  that  you  craved  a  particular 
locality  at  a  certain  time  ?  " 

He  followed  her  still. 

"  That  is  how  I  felt.  These  associations,  that  Park, 
the  thought  of  my  girlhood,  of  my  mother,  who  under 
stood  me  as  no  one  else  has  since,  assumed  a  certain  value. 
New  York  became  unbearable.  It  is  just  there,  in  the 
very  centre  of  our  modern  civilization,  that  one  sees  the 
crudest  passions.  Oh,  I  have  often  wondered  whether 
a  man,  however  disillusioned,  could  see  New  York  as  a 
woman  sees  it  when  the  glamour  is  gone.  We  are  the 
natural  prey  of  the  conqueror  still.  We  dream  of  inde 
pendence  — 

She  broke  off  abruptly. 

This  confession,  with  the  sudden  glimpse  it  gave  him 
of  the  fires  within  her  that  would  not  die  down,  but 
burned  now  more  fiercely  than  ever,  sent  the  blood  to 
his  head.  His  face,  his  temples,  were  hot  with  the  fierce 
ness  of  his  joy  in  his  conviction  that  she  had  revealed 
herself  to  him.  Why  she  had  done  so,  he  could  not 
say.  .  .  .  This  was  the  woman  whom  the  world  thought 
composed  ;  who  had  triumphed  over  its  opposition,  com 
pelled  it  to  bow  before  her ;  who  presented  to  it  that 
self-possessed,  unified  personality  by  which  he  had  been 
struck  at  their  first  meeting.  Yet,  paradoxically,  the 
personality  remained,  —  was  more  elusive  than  before. 
A  thousand  revelations,  he  felt,  would  not  disclose  it. 
He  was  no  nearer  to  solving  it  now.  .  .  .  Yet  the  fires 
burned!  She,  too,  like  himself,  was  aflame  and  unsatis 
fied!  She,  too,  had  tasted  success,  and  had  revolted! 

"  But  I  don't  get  anywhere,"  she  said  wearily.  "  At 
times  I  feel  this  ferment,  this  anger  that  tilings  are  as 


224  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

they  are,  only  to  realize  what  helpless  anger  it  is.  Why 
not  take  the  world  as  it  appears  and  live  and  feel,  instead 
of  beating  against  the  currents  ?  " 

"  But  isn't  that  inconsistent  with  what  you  said  awhile 
ago  as  to  a  new  civilization  ?  "  Hodder  asked. 

"  Oh,  that  Utopia  has  no  reality  for  me.  I  think  it 
has,  at  moments,  but  it  fades.  And  I  don't  pretend  to 
be  consistent.  Mr.  Bentley  lives  in  a  world  of  his  own; 
I  envy  him  with  all  my  heart,  I  love  and  admire  him, 
he  cheers  and  soothes  me  when  I  am  with  him.  But 
I  can't  see  —  whatever  he  sees.  I  am  only  aware  of 
a  remorseless  universe  grinding  out  its  destinies.  We 
Anglo-Saxons  are  fond  of  deceiving  ourselves  about  life, 
of  dressing  it  up  in  beautiful  colours,  of  making  believe 
that  it  actually  contains  happiness.  All  our  fiction  re 
flects  this  —  that  is  why  I  never  cared  to  read  English 
or  American  novels.  The  Continental  school,  the  Russians, 
the  Frenchmen,  refuse  to  be  deluded.  They  are  honest." 

"  Realism,  naturalism,"  he  mused,  recalling  a  course  in 
philosophy,  "  one  would  expect  the  Russian,  in  the  con 
ditions  under  which  he  lives,  possessing  an  artistic  temper 
ament  combined  with  a  paralysis  of  the  initiative  and  a 
sense  of  fate,  to  write  in  that  way.  And  the  Frenchmen, 
Renan,  Zola,  and  the  others  who  have  followed,  are  equally 
deterministic,  but  viewing  the  human  body  as  a  highly 
organized  machine  with  which  we  may  amuse  ourselves  by 
registering  its  sensations.  These  literatures  are  true  in 
so  far  as  they  reflect  the  characteristics  of  the  nations  from 
which  they  spring.  That  is  not  to  say  that  the  philoso 
phies  of  which  they  are  the  expressions  are  true.  Nor  is 
it  to  admit  that  such  a  literature  is  characteristic  of  the 
spirit  of  America,  and  can  be  applied  without  change  to 
our  life  and  atmosphere.  We  have  yet,  I  believe,  to  de 
velop  our  own  literature,  which  will  come  gradually  as  we 
find  ourselves." 

"Find  ourselves?"  she  repeated. 

"  Yes.  Isn't  that  what  we  are  trying  to  do  ?  We  are  not 
determinists  or  fatalists,  and  to  condemn  us  to  such  a  phi 
losophy  would  be  to  destroy  us.  We  live  on  hope.  In  spite 


THE   CRUCIBLE  225 

of  our  apparent  materialism,  we  are  idealists.  And  is  it 
not  possible  to  regard  nature  as  governed  by  laws  —  re 
morseless,  if  you  like  the  word  —  and  yet  believe,  with 
Kant  and  Goethe,  that  there  is  an  inner  realm?  You 
yourself  struggle  —  you  cling  to  ideals." 

"  Ideals  !  "  she  echoed.  "  Ideals  are  useless  unless  one 
is  able  to  see,  to  feel  something  beyond  this  ruthless 
mechanism  by  which  we  are  surrounded  and  hemmed  in, 
to  have  some  perception  of  another  scheme.  Why  strug 
gle,  unless  we  struggle  for  something  definite  ?  Oh,  I 
don't  mean  heavenly  rewards.  Nothing  could  be  more  in 
sipid  and  senseless  than  the  orthodox  view  of  the  here 
after.  I  am  talking  about  a  scheme  of  life  here  and  now." 

"  So  am  I,"  answered  Hodder.  "  But  may  there  not  be 
a  meaning  in  this  very  desire  we  have  to  struggle  against 
the  order  of  things  as  it  appears  to  us  ?  " 

"  A  meaning  ?  " 

"  A  little  while  ago  you  spoke  of  your  indignation  at  the 
inequalities  and  injustices  of  the  world,  and  when  I  asked 
you  if  you  had  always  felt  this,  you  replied  that  this  feel 
ing  had  grown  upon  you.  My  question  is  this  :  whether 
that  indignation  would  be  present  at  all  if  it  were  not 
meant  to  be  turned  into  action." 

"  You  believe  that  an  influence  is  at  work,  an  influence 
that  impels  us  against  our  reason  ?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  think  so,"  he  said.  "  Why  should  so 
many  persons  be  experiencing  such  a  feeling  to-day,  per 
sons  who,  like  yourself,  are  the  beneficiaries  of  our  present 
system  of  privilege  ?  Why  should  you,  who  have  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied,  materially,  with  things  as  they  are, 
be  troubling  yourself  with  thoughts  of  others  who  are  less 
fortunate  ?  And  why  should  we  have  the  spectacle,  to-day, 
of  men  and  women  all  over  this  country  in  social  work,  in 
science  and  medicine  and  politics,  striving  to  better  con 
ditions  while  most  of  them  might  be  much  more  comfortable 
and  luxurious  letting  well  enough  alone?  " 

"  But  it's  human  to  care,"  she  objected. 

"  Ah  —  human  !  "  he  said,  and  was  silent.  "  What  do 
we  mean  by  human,  unless  it  is  the  distinguishing  mark 
Q 


226  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

of  something  within  us  that  the  natural  world  doesn't 
possess  ?  Unless  it  is  the  desire  and  willingness  to  strive 
for  a  larger  interest  than  the  individual  interest,  work  and 
suffer  for  others  ?  And  you  spoke  of  making  people  happier. 
What  do  you  mean  by  happiness  ?  Not  merely  the  posses 
sion  of  material  comforts,  surely.  I  grant  you  that  those 
who  are  overworked  and  underfed,  who  are  burning  with 
the  consciousness  of  wrongs,  who  have  no  outlook  ahead, 
are  essentially  hopeless  and  miserable.  But  by  4  happiness  ' 
you  mean  something  more  than  the  complacency  and  con 
tentment  which  clothing  and  food  might  bring,  and  the 
removal  of  the  economic  fear,  —  and  even  the  restoration 
of  self-respect." 

"  That  their  lives  should  be  fuller  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  That  drudgery  and  despair  should  be  replaced  by  in 
terest  and  hope,"  he  went  on,  "  slavery  by  freedom.  In 
other  words,  that  the  whole  attitude  toward  life  should  be 
changed,  that  life  should  appear  a  bright  thing  rather  than 
a  dark  thing,  that  labour  should  be  willing,  vicarious  instead 
of  forced  and  personal.  Otherwise,  any  happiness  worth 
having  is  out  of  the  question." 

She  was  listening  now  with  parted  lips,  apparently  un 
conscious  of  the  fixity  of  her  gaze. 

"  You  mean  it  is  a  choice  between  that  or  nothing,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  That  there  is  no  use  in  lifting 
people  out  of  the  treadmill  and  removing  the  terror  of 
poverty  unless  you  can  give  them  something  more  —  than 
I  have  got." 

"And  something  more — than  I  have  got," — he  was 
suddenly  moved  to  reply.  .  .  . 

Presently,  while  the  silence  still  held  between  them,  the 
door  opened  and  startled  them  into  reality.  Mr.  Bentley 
came  in. 

The  old  gentleman  gave  no  sign,  as  they  rose  to  meet 
him,  of  a  sense  of  tension  in  the  atmosphere  he  had  entered 
—  yet  each  felt  —  somehow,  that  he  knew.  The  tension 
was  released.  The  same  thought  occurred  to  both  as  they 
beheld  the  peaceful  welcome  shining  in  his  face,  "  Here  is 
what  we  are  seeking.  Why  try  to  define  it  ?  " 


THE   CEUCIBLE  227 

"  To  think  that  I  have  been  gossiping  with  Mrs.  Meyer, 
while  you  were  waiting  for  me  !  "  he  said.  "  She  keeps 
the  little  florist's  shop  at  the  corner  of  Tower  Street,  and 
she  gave  me  these.  I  little  guessed  what  good  use  I  should 
have  for  them,  my  dear." 

He  held  out  to  her  three  fragrant,  crimson  roses  that 
matched  the  responsive  colour  in  her  cheeks  as  she  thanked 
him  and  pinned  them  on  her  gown.  He  regarded  her  an 
instant. 

"  But  I'm  sure  Mr.  Hodder  has  entertained  you,"  Mr. 
Bentley  turned,  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  rector's  shoulder. 

"  Most  successfully,"  said  Alison,  cutting  short  his  pro 
test.  And  she  smiled  at  Hodder,  faintly. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

AMID   THE   ENCIRCLING   GLOOM 


HODDER,  in  spite  of  a  pressing  invitation  to  remain  for 
supper,  had  left  them  together.  He  turned  his  face  west 
ward,  in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  parish  house,  still 
under  the  spell  of  that  moment  of  communion  which  had 
lasted  —  he  knew  not  how  long,  a  moment  of  silent  reve 
lation  to  them  both.  She,  too,  was  storm-tossed  !  She, 
too,  who  had  fared  forth  so  gallantly  into  life,  had  conquered 
only  to  be  beaten  down  —  to  lose  her  way. 

This  discovery  strained  the  very  fibres  of  his  being.  So 
close  he  had  been  to  her  —  so  close  that  each  had  felt,  si 
multaneously,  complete  comprehension  of  the  other,  com 
prehension  that  defied  words,  overbore  disagreements. 
He  knew  that  she  had  felt  it.  He  walked  on  at  first  in  a 
bewildered  ecstasy,  careless  of  aught  else  save  that  in  a 
moment  they  two  had  reached  out  in  the  darkness  and 
touched  hands.  Never  had  his  experience  known  such 
communion,  never  had  a  woman  meant  what  this  woman 
meant,  and  yet  he  could  not  define  that  meaning.  What 
need  of  religion,  of  faith  in  an  unseen  order  when  this 
existed  ?  To  have  this  woman  in  the  midst  of  chaos  would 
be  enough  ! 

Faith  in  an  unseen  order  !  As  he  walked,  his  mind  re 
turned  to  the  argument  by  which  he  had  sought  to  com 
bat  her  doubts  —  and  his  own.  Whence  had  the  argument 
come  ?  It  was  new  to  him  — he  had  never  formulated  it 
before  —  that  pity  and  longing  and  striving  were  a  justi 
fication  and  a  proof.  Had  she  herself  inspired,  by  some 
unknown  psychological  la\v,  this  first  attempt  of  his  to  re- 

228 


AMID  THE  ENCIRCLING  GLOOM  229 

form  the  universe,  this  theory  which  he  had  rather  spoken 
than  thought  ?  Or  had  it  been  the  knowledge  of  her  own 
longing,  and  his  desire  to  assuage  it  ?  As  twilight  fell, 
as  his  spirits  ebbed,  he  could  not  apply  it  now  —  it  meant 
nothing  to  him,  evaded  him,  there  was  in  it  no  solace.  To 
regain  his  footing  once  more,  to  climb  again  without  this 
woman  whom  he  needed,  and  might  not  have  !  Better  to 
fall,  to  be  engulfed.  .  .  .  The  vision  of  her,  tall  and 
straight,  with  the  roses  on  her  breast,  tortured  him. 

Thus  ecstasy  ebbed  to  despondency.  He  looked  around 
him  in  the  fading  day,  to  find  himself  opposite  the  closed 
gates  of  the  Botanical  Gardens,  in  the  southwestern  portion 
of  the  city.  .  .  .  An  hour  later  he  had  made  his  way  back 
to  Dalton  Street  with  its  sputtering  blue  lights  and  gliding 
figures,  and  paused  for  a  moment  on  the  far  sidewalk  to 
gaze  at  Mr.  Bentley's  gleaming  windows.  Should  he  go 
in  ?  Had  that  personality  suddenly  lost  its  power  over 
him  ?  How  strange  that  now  he  could  see  nothing  glow 
ing,  nothing  inspiring  within  that  house,  —  only  a  kindly 
old  man  reading  a  newspaper ! 

He  walked  on,  slowly,  to  feel  stealing  on  him  that  des 
perate  longing  for  adventure  which  he  had  known  so  well 
in  his  younger  days.  And  he  did  not  resist.  The  terror 
with  which  it  had  once  inspired  him  was  gone,  or  lingered 
only  in  the  form  of  a  delicious  sense  of  uncertainty  and 
anticipation.  Anything  might  happen  to  him  —  anything 
would  be  grateful  ;  the  thought  of  his  study  in  the  par 
ish  house  was  unbearable  ;  the  Dalton  Street  which  had 
mocked  and  repelled  him  suddenly  became  alluring  with 
its  champaigns  of  light  and  inviting  stretches  of  darkness. 
In  the  block  ahead,  rising  out  of  the  night  like  a  tower 
blazing  with  a  hundred  beacons,  Hodder  saw  a  hotel,  heard 
the  faint  yet  eager  throbbing  of  music,  beheld  silhouetted 
figures  flitting  from  automobiles  and  carriages  across  the 
white  glare  of  the  pavement,  —  figures  of  men  and  women. 

He  hastened  his  steps,  the  music  grew  louder  and  louder 
in  his  ears,  he  gained  the  ornamental  posts  crowned  by 
their  incandescent  globes,  made  his  way  through  the  loi 
terers,  descended  the  stone  steps  of  the  restaurant,  and 


230  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

stood  staring  into  it  as  at  a  blurred  picture.  The  band 
crashed  a  popular  two-step  above  the  mingled  voices  and 
laughter.  He  sat  down  at  a  vacant  table  near  the  door, 
and  presently  became  aware  that  a  waiter  had  been  for 
some  time  at  his  elbow. 

"  What  will  you  have,  sir  ?  " 

Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  not  eaten,  discovered 
that  he  was  hungry,  and  ordered  some  sandwiches  and 
beer.  Still  staring,  the  figures  began  to  differentiate  them 
selves,  although  they  all  appeared,  somehow,  in  perpetual 
motion ;  hurrying,  though  seated.  It  was  like  gazing  at 
a  quivering  cinematograph.  Here  and  there  ribbons  of 
smoke  curled  upward,  adding  volume  to  the  blue  cloud 
that  hung  over  the  tables,  which  in  turn  was  dissipated 
in  spots  by  the  industrious  electric  fans.  Everywhere  he 
looked  he  met  the  glances  of  women ;  even  at  the  table 
next  him,  they  were  not  so  absorbed  in  their  escorts  as  to 
be  able  to  resist  flinging  him  covert  stares  between  the 
shrieks  of  laughter  in  which  they  intermittently  indulged. 
The  cumulative  effect  of  all  these  faces  was  intoxicating, 
and  for  a  long  time  he  was  unable  to  examine  closely  any 
one  group.  What  he  saw  was  a  composite  woman  with 
flushed  cheeks  and  soliciting  eyes,  becomingly  gowned  and 
hatted  —  to  the  masculine  judgment.  On  the  walls,  heavily 
frescoed  in  the  German  style,  he  read,  in  Gothic  letters : 

"  Wer  liebt  nicht  Wein,  Weib,  und  Gesang, 
Er  bleibt  ein  Narr  sein  Leben  lang." 

The  waiter  brought  the  sandwiches  and  beer,  yet  he  did 
not  eat.  In  the  middle  distance  certain  figures  began  in 
sistently  to  stand  out,  —  figures  of  women  sitting  alone  : 
wherever  he  looked  he  met  a  provoking  gaze.  One  woman, 
a  little  farther  away  than  the  rest,  seemed  determinedly 
bent  on  getting  a  nod  of  recognition,  and  it  was  gradually 
borne  in  upon  Hodder's  consciousness  that  her  features 
were  familiar.  In  avoiding  her  eyes  he  studied  the  men 
at  the  next  table,  —  or  rather  one  of  them,  who  loudly 
ordered  the  waiters  about,  who  told  brief  anecdotes  that 


AMID   THE  ENCIKCLING   GLOOM  231 

were  uproariously  applauded;  whose  pudgy,  bejewelled 
fingers  were  continually  feeling  for  the  bottle  in  the  ice 
beside  his  chair,  or  nudging  his  companions  with  easy 
familiarity ;  whose  little  eyes,  set  in  a  heavy  face,  lighted 
now  and  again  with  a  certain  expression 

Suddenly  Hodder  pushed  back  his  chair  and  got  to  his 
feet,  overcome  by  a  choking  sensation  like  that  of  being 
asphyxiated  by  foul  gases.  He  must  get  out  at  once,  or 
faint.  What  he  had  seen  in  the  man's  eyes  had  aroused 
in  him  sheer  terror,  for  it  was  the  image  of  something  in 
his  own  soul  which  had  summarily  gained  supremacy  and 
led  him  hither,  unresisting,  to  its  own  abiding-place.  In 
vain  he  groped  to  reconstruct  the  process  by  which  that 
other  spirit  —  which  he  would  fain  have  believed  his  true 
spirit  —  had  been  drugged  and  deadened  in  its  very  flight. 
.  .  .  He  was  aware,  as  he  still  stood  uncertainly  beside 
the  table,  of  the  white-aproned  waiter  looking  at  him,  and 
of  some  one  else,  —  the  woman  whose  eyes  had  been  fast 
ened  on  him  so  persistently.  She  was  close  beside  him, 
speaking  to  him. 

"  Seems  to  me  we've  met  before." 

He  looked  at  her,  at  first  uncomprehendingly,  then  with 
a  dawning  realization  of  her  identity.  Even  her  name 
came  to  him,  unexpectedly,  —  Kate  Marcy,  —  the  woman 
in  the  flat ! 

"  Ain't  you  going  to  invite  me  to  have  some  supper  ?  " 
she  whispered  eagerly,  furtively,  as  one  accustomed  to  be 
rebuffed,  yet  bold  in  spite  of  it.  "  They'll  throw  me  out 
if  they  think  I'm  accosting  you." 

How  was  it  that,  a  moment  ago,  she  had  appeared  to 
him  mysterious,  inviting  ?  At  this  range  he  could  only 
see  the  paint  on  her  cheeks,  the  shadows  under  her  burn 
ing  eyes,  the  shabby  finery  of  her  gown.  Her  wonderful 
bronze  hair  only  made  the  contrast  more  pitiful.  He  acted 
automatically,  drawing  out  for  her  the  chair  opposite  his 
own,  and  sat  down  again. 

"  Say,  but  I'm  hungry  !  "  she  exclaimed,  pulling  off  her 
gloves.  She  smiled  at  him,  wanly,  yet  with  a  brazen 
coquettishness  become  habit. 


232  THE  INSIDE   OF   THE  CUP 

"  Hungry  !  "  he  repeated  idly. 

"  I  guess  you'd  be,  if  you'd  only  had  a  fried  egg  and  a 
cup  of  coffee  to-day,  and  nothing  last  night." 

He  pushed  over  to  her,  hastily,  with  a  kind  of  horror, 
the  plate  of  sandwiches.  She  began  eating  them  raven 
ously  ;  but  presently  paused,  and  thrust  them  back  toward 
him.  He  shook  his  head. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Nothing,"  he  replied. 

"  You  ordered  them,  didn't  you  ?  Ain't  you  eating  any 
thing?" 

"  I'm  not  hungry,"  he  said. 

She  continued  eating  awhile  without  comment.  And 
he  watched  her  as  one  fascinated,  oblivious  to  his  sur 
roundings,  in  a  turmoil  of  thought  and  emotion. 

"  I'm  dry,"  she  announced  meaningly. 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  gave  her  the  bottle 
of  beer.  She  made  a  wry  face  as  she  poured  it  out. 

"  Have  they  run  out  of  champagne  ?  "  she  inquired. 

This  time  he  did  not  hesitate.  The  women  of  his 
acquaintance,  at  the  dinner  parties  he  attended,  drank 
champagne.  Why  should  he  refuse  it  to  this  woman  ? 
A  long-nosed,  mediaeval-looking  waiter  was  hovering  about, 
one  of  those  bizarre,  battered  creatures  who  have  long 
exhausted  the  surprises  of  life,  presiding  over  this  amaz 
ing  situation  with  all  the  sang  froid  of  a  family  butler, 
Hodder  told  him  to  bring  champagne. 

"  What  kind,  sir  ?  "  he  asked,  holding  out  a  card. 

"The  best  you  have." 

The  woman  stared  at  him  in  wonder. 

"You're  what  an  English  Johnny  I  know  would  call 
a  little  bit  of  all  right !  "  she  declared  with  enthusiastic 
approval. 

"  Since  you  are  hungry,"  he  went  on,  "  suppose  you 
have  something  more  substantial  than  sandwiches.  What 
would  you  like  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer  at  once.  Amazement  grew  in  her 
eyes,  amazement  and  a  kind  of  fear. 

"  Quit  joshing !  "  she  implored  him,  and  he  found  it  dif« 


AMID   THE   ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  233 

ficult  to  cope  with  her  style  of  conversation.  For  a  while 
she  gazed  helplessly  at  the  bill  of  fare. 

"  I  guess  you'll  think  it's  funny,"  she  said  hesitatingly, 
"  but  I  feel  just  like  a  good  beefsteak  and  potatoes.  Bring 
a  thick  one,  Walter." 

The  waiter  sauntered  off. 

"  Why  should  I  think  it  strange  ?  "  Hodder  asked. 

"  Well,  if  you  knew  how  many  evenings  I've  sat  up 
there  in  my  room  and  thought  what  I'd  order  if  I  ever  again 
got  hold  of  some  rich  guy  who'd  loosen  up.  There  ain't 
any  use  trying  to  put  up  a  bluff  with  you.  Nothing  was 
too  good  for  me  once,  caviar,  pate  de  foie  gras  "  (her  pro 
nunciation  is  not  to  be  imitated),  "  chicken  casserole,  peach 
Melba,  filet  of  beef  with  mushrooms,  —  I've  had  'em  all,  and 
I  used  to  sit  up  and  say  I'd  hand  out  an  order  like  that. 
You  never  do  what  you  think  you're  going  to  do  in  this 
life." 

The  truth  of  this  remark  struck  him  with  a  force  she 
did  not  suspect ;  stung  him,  as  it  were,  into  a  sense  of  re 
ality. 

"  And  now,"  she  added  pathetically,  "  all  I  want  is  a 
beefsteak  !  Don't  that  beat  you  ?  " 

She  appeared  so  genuinely  surprised  at  this  somewhat 
contemptible  trick  fate  had  played  her  that  Hodder  smiled 
in  spite  of  himself. 

"I  didn't  recognize  you  at  first  in  that  get-up,"  she 
observed,  looking  at  his  blue  serge  suit.  "  So  you've 
dropped  the  preacher  business,  have  you  ?  You're  wise, 
all  right." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  when  you  came  'round  that  time  that 
you  weren't  like  the  rest  of  'em  ?  You're  too  human." 

Once  more  the  word,  and  on  her  lips,  startled  him. 

"  Some  of  the  best  men  I  have  ever  known,  the  broadest 
and  most  understanding  men,  have  been  clergymen,"  he 
found  himself  protesting. 

"  Well,  they  haven't  dropped  in  on  me.  The  only  one 
I  ever  saw  that  measured  up  to  something  like  that  was 
you,  and  now  you've  chucked  it." 


234  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Had  he,  as  she  expressed  the  matter,  "  chucked  it "  ? 
Her  remark  brought  him  reluctantly,  fearfully,  remorse 
lessly —  agitated  and  unprepared  as  he  was  —  face  to  face 
with  his  future. 

"  You  were  too  good  for  the  job,"  she  declared.  "  What 
is  there  in  it?  There  ain't  nobody  converted  these  days 
that  I  can  see,  and  what's  the  use  of  gettin'  up  and 
preachin'  to  a  lot  of  sapheads  that  don't  know  what  religion 
is?  Sure  they  don't." 

"Do  you?"  he  asked. 

"You've  called  my  bluff."  She  laughed.  "Say,  do 
you?  If  there  was,  anything  in  it  you'd  have  kept  on 
preachin'  to  that  bunch  and  made  some  of  'em  believe  they 
was  headed  for  hell  ;  you'd  have  made  one  of  'em  that 
owns  the  flat  house  I  live  in,  who  gets  fancy  rents  out  of 
us  poor  girls,  give  it  up.  That's  a  nice  kind  of  business 
for  a  church  member,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  Owns  the  house  in  which  you  live  ! " 

"Sure."  She  smiled  at  him  compassionately,  pitying 
his  innocence  and  ignorance.  "  Now  I  come  to  think  of 
it,  I  guess  he  don't  go  to  your  church,  —  it's  the  big  Bap 
tist  church  on  the  boulevard.  But  what's  the  difference  ?  " 

"None,"  said  Hodder,  despondently. 

She  regarded  him  curiously. 

"You  remember  when  you  dropped  in  that  night,  when 
the  kid  was  sick  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  Well,  now  you  ain't  in  the  business  any  more,  I  may 
as  well  tell  you  you  kind  of  got  in  on  me.  I  was  sorry  for 
you  —  honest,  I  was.  I  couldn't  believe  at  first  you  was  on 
the  level,  but  it  didn't  take  me  long  to  see  that  they  had 
gold-bricked  you,  too.  I  saw  you  weren't  wise  to  what 
they  were." 

"  You  thought "  he  began  and  paused  dumfounded. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  retorted.  "  It  looked  easy  to  me,  — 
your  line.  How  was  I  to  know  at  first  that  they  had  you 
fooled  ?  How  was  I  to  know  you  wasn't  in  the  game  ?  " 

"The  game?" 

"  Say,  what  else  is  it  but  a  game  ?     You  must  be  on  now, 


AMID   THE  ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  235 

ain't  you  ?  Why  do  they  put  up  to  keep  the  churches 
going  ?  There  ain't  any  coupons  coming  out  of  'em. 
Maybe  some  of  these  millionnaires  think  they  can  play  all 
the  horses  and  win,  —  get  into  heaven  and  sell  gold  bricks 
on  the  side.  But  I  guess  most  of  'em  don't  think  about 
heaven.  They  just  use  the  church  for  a  front,  and  take 
in  strangers  in  the  back  alley,  —  downtown." 

Hodder  was  silent,  overwhelmed  by  the  brutal  aptness 
of  her  figures.  Nor  did  he  take  the  trouble  of  a  defence, 
of  pointing  out  that  hers  was  not  the  whole  truth.  What 
really  mattered — he  saw  —  was  what  she  and  those  like 
her  thought.  Such  minds  were  not  to  be  disabused  by 
argument;  and  indeed  he  had  little  inclination  for  it 
then. 

"There's  nothing  in  it." 

By  this  expression  he  gathered  she  meant  life.  And 
some  hidden  impulse  bade  him  smile  at  her. 

" There  is  this"  he  answered. 

She  opened  her  mouth,  closed  it  and  stared  at  him,  struck 
by  his  expression,  striving  uneasily  to  fathom  hidden 
depths  in  his  remark. 

"I  don't  get  on  to  you,"  she  said  lamely.  "I  didn't 
that  other  time.  I  never  ran  across  anybody  like  you." 

He  tried  to  smile  again. 

"  You  mustn't  mind  me,"  he  answered. 

They  fell  into  an  oasis  of  silence,  surrounded  by  mad 
music  and  laughter.  Then  came  the  long-nosed  waiter 
carrying  the  beefsteak  aloft,  followed  by  a  lad  with  a 
bucket  of  ice,  from  which  protruded  the  green  and  gold 
neck  of  a  bottle.  The  plates  were  put  down,  the  beafsteak 
carved,  the  champagne  opened  and  poured  out  with  a 
flourish.  The  woman  raised  her  glass. 

"  Here's  how ! "  she  said,  with  an  attempt  at  gayety. 
And  she  drank  to  him.  "  It's  funny  how  I  ran  across  you 
again,  ain't  it?"  She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed. 

He  raised  his  glass,  tasted  the  wine,  and  put  it  down 
again.  A  sheet  of  fire  swept  through  him. 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?  Is  it  corked?"  she  de 
manded.  "It  goes  to  the  right  spot  with  me." 


236  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"It  seems  very  good,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile,  and 
turning  to  the  food  on  his  plate.  The  very  idea  of  eating 
revolted  him  —  and  yet  he  made  the  attempt :  he  had  a  feel 
ing,  ill  defined,  that  consequences  of  vital  importance  de 
pended  upon  this  attempt,  on  his  natural  acceptance  of  the 
situation.  And,  while  he  strove  to  reduce  the  contents  of 
his  plate,  he  racked  his  brain  for  some  subject  of  conver 
sation.  The  flamboyant  walls  of  the  room  pressed  in  on 
every  side  ;  comment  of  that  which  lay  within  their  limits 
was  impossible,  —  but  he  could  not,  somehow,  get  beyond 
them.  Was  there  in  the  whole  range  of  life  one  easy  topic 
which  they  might  share  in  common?  Yet  a  bond  existed 
between  this  woman  and  himself — a  bond  of  which  he 
now  became  aware,  and  which  seemed  strangely  to  grow 
stronger  as  the  minutes  passed  and  no  words  were  spoken. 
Why  was  it  that  she,  too,  to  whom  speech  came  so  easily, 
had  fallen  dumb?  He  began  to  long  for  some  remark, 
however  disconcerting.  The  tension  increased. 

She  put  down  her  knife  and  fork.  Tears  sprang  into 
her  eyes,  —  tears  of  anger,  he  thought. 

"  Say,  it's  no  use  trying  to  put  up  a  bluff  with  me,"  she 
cried. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?"  he  asked. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,  all  right.  What  did  you 
come  in  here  for,  anyway?" 

"I  don't  know — I  couldn't  tell  you,"  he  answered. 

The  very  honesty  of  his  words  seemed,  for  an  instant, 
to  disconcert  her ;  and  she  produced  a  torn  lace  handker 
chief,  which  she  thrust  in  her  eyes. 

"  Why  can't  you  leave  me  alone  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I'm 
all  right." 

If  he  did  not  at  once  reply,  it  was  because  of  some  in 
ner  change  which  had  taken  place  in  himself  ;  and  he 
seemed  to  see  things,  suddenly,  in  their  true  proportions. 
He  no  longer  feared  a  scene  and  its  consequences.  By 
virtue  of  something  he  had  cast  off  or  taken  on,  he  was 
aware  of  a  newly  acquired  mastery  of  the  situation,  and 
by  a  hidden  and  unconscious  process  he  had  managed 
to  get  at  the  real  woman  behind  the  paint :  had  beaten 


AMID   THE   ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  237 

down,  as  it  were  without  a  siege,  her  defences.  And  he 
was  incomparably  awed  by  the  sight  of  her  quivering, 
frightened  self. 

Her  weeping  grew  more  violent.  He  saw  the  people 
at  the  next  table  turn  and  stare,  heard  the  men  laughing 
harshly.  For  the  spectacle  was  evidently  not  an  uncom 
mon  one  here.  She  pushed  away  her  unfinished  glass, 
gathered  up  her  velvet  bag  and  rose  abruptly. 

"I  guess  I  ain't  hungry  after  all,"  she  said,  and  started 
toward  the  door.  He  turned  to  the  waiter,  who  regarded 
him  unmoved,  and  asked  for  a  check. 

"I'll  get  it,"  he  said. 

Hodder  drew  out  a  ten-dollar  bill,  and  told  him  to  keep 
the  change.  The  waiter  looked  at  him.  Some  impulse 
moved  him  to  remark,  as  he  picked  up  the  rector's  hat : 

"  Don't  let  her  put  it  over  you,  sir." 

Hodder  scarcely  heard  him.  He  hurried  up  the  steps 
and  gained  the  pavement,  and  somewhere  in  the  black 
shadows  beyond  the  arc-lights  he  saw  her  disappearing 
down  the  street.  Careless  of  all  comment  he  hastened 
on,  overtook  her,  and  they  walked  rapidly  side  by  side. 
Now  and  again  he  heard  a  sob,  but  she  said  nothing. 
Thus  they  came  to  the  house  where  the  Garvins  had  lived, 
and  passed  it,  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  dimly  lighted 
vestibule  of  the  flats  next  door.  In  drawing  the  key  from 
her  bag  she  dropped  it :  he  picked  it  up  and  put  it  in  the 
lock  himself.  She  led  the  way  without  comment  up  the 
darkened  stairs,  and  on  the  landing  produced  another  key, 
opened  the  door  of  her  rooms,  fumbled  for  the  electric 
button,  and  suddenly  the  place  was  flooded  with  light. 
He  glanced  in,  and  recoiled. 

II 

Oddly  enough,  the  first  thing  he  noticed  in  the  con 
fusion  that  reigned  was  the  absence  of  the  piano.  Two 
chairs  were  overturned,  and  one  of  them  was  broken;  a 
siphon  of  vichy  lay  on  the  floor  beside  a  crushed  glass  and 
two  or  three  of  the  cheap  ornaments  that  had  been  swept 


238  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

off  the  mantel  and  broken  on  the  gaudy  tiles  of  the 
hearth.  He  glanced  at  the  woman,  who  had  ceased  cry 
ing,  and  stood  surveying  the  wreckage  with  the  calmness, 
the  philosophic  nonchalance  of  a  class  that  comes  to  look 
upon  misfortune  as  inevitable. 

"They  didn't  do  a  thing  to  this  place,  did  they  ?  "  was 
her  comment.  "  There  was  two  guys  in  here  to-night 
who  got  a  notion  they  were  funny." 

Hodder  had  thought  to  have  fathomed  all  the  horrors  of 
her  existence,  but  it  was  not  until  he  looked  into  this  room 
that  the  bottomless  depths  of  it  were  brought  home  to  him. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  the  civilization  in  which  he  lived 
left  any  human  being  so  defenceless  as  to  be  at  the  mercy 
of  the  ghouls  who  had  been  here  ?  The  very  stale  odours 
of  the  spilled  whiskey  seemed  the  material  expression  of  the 
essence  of  degraded  souls  ;  for  a  moment  it  overpowered 
him.  Then  came  the  imperative  need  of  action,  and  he 
began  to  right  one  of  the  chairs.  She  darted  forward. 

"Cut  it  out  I  "  she  cried.  "What  business  have  you 
got  coming  in  here  and  straightening  up  ?  I  was  a  fool 
to  bring  you,  anyway." 

It  was  in  her  eyes  that  he  read  her  meaning,  and  yet 
could  not  credit  it.  He  was  abashed — ashamed  ;  nay, 
he  could  not  define  the  feeling  in  his  breast.  He  knew 
that  what  he  read  was  the  true  interpretation  of  her 
speech,  for  in  some  manner  —  he  guessed  not  how  —  she 
had  begun  to  idealize  him,  to  feel  that  the  touch  of  these 
things  defiled  him. 

"  I  believe  I  invited  myself,"  he  answered,  with  at 
tempted  cheerfulness.  Then  it  struck  him,  in  his  pre 
dicament,  that  this  was  precisely  what  others  had  done  I 
"  When  you  asked  me  a  little  while  ago  whether  I  had 
left  the  Church,  I  let  you  think  I  had.  I  am  still  con 
nected  with  St.  John's,  but  I  do  not  know  how  long  I 
shall  continue  to  be." 

She  was  on  her  knees  with  dustpan  and  whiskbroom, 
cleaning  up  the  fragments  of  glass  on  the  stained  carpet. 
And  she  glanced  up  at  him  swiftly,  diviningly. 

"Say  —  you're  in  trouble  yourself,  ain't  you?" 


I  GUESS   I  AIN'T   HUNGRY   AFTER  ALL.'  " 


AMID  THE   ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  239 

She  got  up  impulsively,  spilling  some  of  the  contents 
of  the  pan.  A  subtle  change  had  come  in  her,  and  under 
the  gallantly  drooping  feathers  of  her  hat  he  caught  her 
eye  —  the  human  eye  that  so  marvellously  reflects  the 
phases  of  the  human  soul :  the  eye  which  so  short  a  time 
before  hardily  and  brazenly  had  flashed  forth  its  invitation, 
now  actually  shone  with  fellowship  and  sympathy.  And 
for  a  moment  this  look  was  more  startling,  more  appalling 
than  the  other  ;  he  shrank  from  it,  resented  it  even  more. 
Was  it  true  that  they  had  something  in  common?  And 
if  so,  was  it  sin  or  sorrow,  or  both  ? 

"I  might  have  known,"  she  said,  staring  at  him.  In 
spite  of  his  gesture  of  dissent,  he  saw  that  she  was  going 
over  the  events  of  the  evening  from  her  new  point  of  view. 

"I  might  have  known,  when  we  were  sitting  there 
in  Harrod's,  that  you  were  up  against  it,  too,  but  I 
couldn't  think  of  anything  but  the  way  jTwas  fixed.  The 
agent's  been  here  twice  this  week  for  the  rent,  and  I  was 
kind  of  desperate  for  a  square  meal." 

Hodder  took  the  dustpan  from  her  hand,  and  flung  its 
contents  into  the  fireplace. 

"  Then  we  are  both  fortunate,"  he  said,  "  to  have  met 
each  other." 

"I  don't  see  where  you  come  in,"  she  told  him. 

He  turned  and  smiled  at  her. 

"  Do  you  remember  when  I  was  here  that  evening  about 
two  months  ago  I  said  I  should  like  to  be  your  friend  ? 
Well,  I  meant  it.  And  I  have  often  hoped,  since  then, 
that  some  circumstance  might  bring  us  together  again. 
You  seemed  to  think  that  no  friendship  was  possible  between 
us,  but  I  have  tried  to  make  myself  believe  that  you  said 
so  because  you  didn't  know  me." 

"  Honest  to  God?"  she  asked.     " Is  that  on  the  level  ? " 

"  I  only  ask  for  an  opportunity  to  prove  it,"  he  replied, 
striving  uo  speak  naturally.  He  stooped  and  laid  the 
dustpan  on  the  hearth.  "There!  Now  let's  sit  down." 

She  sank  on  the  sofa,  her  breast  rising  and  falling,  her 
gaze  dumbly  fixed  on  him,  as  one  under  hypnosis.  He 
took  the  rocker. 


240  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  how  grateful  Mrs.  Garvin — • 
the  boy's  mother  —  was  for  the  roses  you  brought.  She 
doesn't  know  who  sent  them,  but  I  intend  to  tell  her,  and 
she  will  thank  you  herself.  She  is  living  out  in  the 
country.  And  the  boy — you  would  scarcely  recognize 
him." 

"I  couldn't  play  the  piano  for  a  week  after  —  that 
thing  happened."  She  glanced  at  the  space  where  the 
instrument  had  stood. 

44  You  taught  yourself  to  play  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I  had  music  lessons." 

"  Music  lessons  ?  " 

"Not  here  —  before  I  left  home — up  the  State,  in  a 
little  country  town,  —  Madison.  It  seems  like  a  long 
time  ago,  but  it's  only  seven  years  in  September.  Mother 
and  father  wanted  all  of  us  children  to  know  a  little  more 
than  they  did,  and  I  guess  they  pinched  a  good  deal  to 
give  us  a  chance.  I  went  a  year  to  the  high  school,  and 
then  I  was  all  for  coming  to  the  city — I  couldn't  stand 
Madison,  there  wasn't  anything  going  on.  Mother  was 
against  it, — said  I  was  too  good-looking  to  leave  home. 
I  wish  I  never  had.  You  wouldn't  believe  I  was  good- 
looking  once,  would  you  ?  " 

She  spoke  dispassionately,  not  seeming  to  expect  assent, 
but  Hodder  glanced  involuntarily  at  her  wonderful  crown 
of  hair.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat.  He  was  thinking 
of  the  typical  crime  of  American  parents,  — and  suddenly 
it  struck  him  that  her  speech  had  changed,  that  she  had 
dropped  the  suggestive  slang  of  the  surroundings  in  which 
she  now  lived. 

"  I  was  a  fool  to  come,  but  I  couldn't  see  it  then.  All 
I  could  think  of  was  to  get  away  to  a  place  where  some 
thing  was  happening.  I  wanted  to  get  into  Ferguson's — 
everybody  in  Madison  knew  about  Ferguson's,  what  a 
grand  store  it  was, — but  I  couldn't.  And  after  a  while 
I  got  a  place  at  the  embroidery  counter  at  Pratt's. 
That's  a  department  store,  too,  you  know.  It  looked 
fine,  but  it  wasn't  long  before  I  fell  wise  to  a  few  things." 
(She  relapsed  into  slang  occasionally.)  "  Have  you  ever 


AMID   THE   ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  241 

tried  to  stand  on  your  feet  for  nine  hours,  where  you 
couldn't  sit  down  for  a  minute  ?  Say,  when  Florry  Kins 
ley  and  me — she  was  the  girl  I  roomed  with — would  get 
home  at  night,  often  we'd  just  lie  down  and  laugh  and 
cry,  we  were  so  tired,  and  our  feet  hurt  so.  We  were  too 
used  up  sometimes  to  get  up  and  cook  supper  on  the  little 
stove  we  had.  And  sitting  around  a  back  bedroom  all 
evening  was  worse  than  Madison.  We'd  go  out,  tired  as 
we  were,  and  walk  the  streets." 

He  nodded,  impressed  by  the  fact  that  she  did  not 
seem  to  be  appealing  to  his  sympathy.  Nor,  indeed,  did 
she  appear — in  thus  picking  up  the  threads  of  her  past — • 
to  be  consciously  accounting  for  her  present.  She  recog 
nized  no  causation  there. 

"  Say,  did  you  ever  get  to  a  place  where  you  just  had 
to  have  something  happen  ?  When  you  couldn't  stand 
bein'  lonely  night  after  night,  when  you  went  out  on  the 
streets  and  saw  everybody  on  the  way  to  a  good  time  but 
you  ?  We  used  to  look  in  the  newspapers  for  notices  of 
the  big  balls,  and  we'd  take  the  cars  to  the  West  End 
and  stand  outside  the  awnings  watching  the  carriages 
driving  up  and  the  people  coming  in.  And  the  same  with 
the  weddings.  We  got  to  know  a  good  many  of  the 
swells  by  sight.  There  was  Mrs.  Larrabbee — "  a  certain 
awe  crept  into  her  voice  —  "and  Miss  Ferguson — she's 
sweet  —  and  a  lot  more.  Some  of  the  girls  used  to  copy 
their  clothes  and  hats,  but  Florry  and  me  tried  to  live 
honest.  It  was  funny,"  she  added  irrelevantly,  "  but  the 
more  worn  out  we  were  at  night,  the  more  we'd  want  a 
little  excitement,  and  we  used  to  go  to  the  dance-halls 
and  keep  going  until  we  were  ready  to  drop." 

She  laughed  at  the  recollection. 

"  There  was  a  floorwalker  who  never  let  me  alone  the 
whole  time  I  was  at  Pratt's  —  he  put  me  in  mind  of  a  pall 
bearer.  His  name  was  Selkirk,  and  he  had  a  family  in 
Westerly,  out  on  the  Grade  Suburban.  .  .  .  Some  of  the 
girls  never  came  back  at  all,  except  to  swagger  in  and  buy 
expensive  things,  and  tell  us  we  were  fools  to  work.  And 
after  a  while  I  noticed  Florry  was  getting  discouraged. 


242  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

We  never  had  so  much  as  a  nickel  left  over  on  Saturdays, 
and  they  made  us  sign  a  paper,  when  they  hired  us,  that 
we  lived  at  home.  It  was  their  excuse  for  paying  us 
six  dollars  a  week.  They  do  it  at  Ferguson's,  too. 
They  say  they  can  get  plenty  of  girls  who  do  live  at 
home.  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  go  back  to  Madison,  but 
I  kept  putting  it  off,  and  then  father  died,  and  I  couldn't. 

"  And  then,  one  day,  Florry  left.  She  took  her  things 
from  the  room  when  I  was  at  the  store,  and  I  never  saw 
her  again.  I  got  another  roommate.  I  couldn't  afford 
to  pay  for  the  room  alone.  You  wouldn't  believe  I  kept 
straight,  would  you?"  she  demanded,  with  a  touch  of  her 
former  defiance.  "I  had  plenty  of  chances  better  than 
that  floorwalker.  But  I  knew  I  was  good  looking,  and  I 
thought  if  I  could  only  hold  out  I  might  get  married  to 
some  fellow  who  was  well  fixed.  What's  the  matter?" 

Hodder's  exclamation  had  been  involuntary,  for  in  these 
last  words  she  had  unconsciously  brought  home  to  him 
the  relentless  predicament  in  the  lives  of  these  women. 
She  had  been  saving  herself  —  for  what?  A  more  advan 
tageous  sale  ! 

"  It's  always  been  my  luck,"  she  went  on  reflectingly, 
"that  when  what  I  wanted  to  happen  did  happen,  I  never 
could  take  advantage  of  it.  It  was  just  like  that  to-night, 
when  you  handed  me  out  the  bill  of  fare,  and  I  ordered 
beefsteak.  And  it  was  like  that  when  —  when  he  came 
along  —  I  didn't  do  what  I  thought  I  was  going  to  do. 
It's  terrible  to  fall  in  love,  isn't  it?  I  mean  the  real  thing. 
I've  read  in  books  that  it  only  comes  once,  and  I  guess 
it's  so." 

Fortunately  she  seemed  to  expect  no  answer  to  this 
query.  She  was  staring  at  the  wall  with  unseeing  eyes. 

"  1  never  thought  of  marrying  him,  from  the  first.  He 
could  have  done  anything  with  me  —  he  was  so  good  and 
generous  —  and  it  was  him  I  was  thinking  about.  That's 
love,  isn't  it  ?  Maybe  you  don't  believe  a  woman  like  me 
knows  what  love  is.  You've  got  a  notion  that  goin'  down 
hill,  as  I've  been  doing,  kills  it,  haven't  you?  I  wish  to 
God  it  did  —  but  it  don't :  the  ache's  there,  and  sometimes 


AMID   THE   ENCIKCLING   GLOOM  243 

it  comes  in  the  daytime,  and  sometimes  at  night,  and  I 
think  I'll  go  crazy.  When  a  woman  like  me  is  in  love 
there  isn't  anything  more  terrible  on  earth,  I  tell  you.  If 
a  girl's  respectable  and  good  it's  bad  enough,  God  knows, 
if  she  can't  have  the  man  she  wants;  but  when  she's  — 
like  me  —  it's  hell.  That's  the  only  way  I  can  describe  it. 
She  feels  there  is  nothing  about  her  that's  clean,  that  he 
wouldn't  despise.  There's  many  a  night  I  wished  I  could 
have  done  what  Garvin  did,  but  I  didn't  have  the  nerve." 

"  Don't  say  that ! "  he  commanded  sharply. 

"  Why  not?     It's  the  best  way  out." 

"  I  can  see  how  one  might  believe  it  to  be,"  he  answered. 
Indeed,  it  seemed  that  his  vision  had  been  infinitely  ex 
tended,  that  he  had  suddenly  come  into  possession  of  the 
solution  of  all  the  bewildered,  despairing  gropings  of  the 
human  soul.  Only  awhile  ago,  for  instance,  the  mood 
of  self-destruction  had  been  beyond  his  imagination :  to 
night  he  understood  it,  though  he  still  looked  upon  it  with 
horror.  And  he  saw  that  his  understanding  of  her  —  or  of 
any  human  being  —  could  never  be  of  the  intellect.  He 
had  entered  into  one  of  those  astounding  yet  simple  re 
lationships  wherein  truth,  and  truth  alone,  is  possible. 
He  knew  that  such  women  lied,  deceived  themselves ;  he 
could  well  conceive  that  the  image  of  this  first  lover 
might  have  become  idealized  in  her  vicissitudes ;  that  the 
memories  of  the  creature-comforts,  of  first  passion,  might 
have  enhanced  as  the  victim  sank.  It  was  not  only  be 
cause  she  did  not  attempt  to  palliate  that  he  believed  her. 

"I  remember  the  time  I  met  him,  —  it  was  only  four 
years  ago  last  spring,  but  it  seems  like  a  lifetime.  It  was 
Decoration  Day,  and  it  was  so  beautiful  I  went  out  with 
another  girl  to  the  Park,  and  we  sat  on  the  grass  and 
looked  at  the  sky  and  wished  we  lived  in  the  country. 
He  was  in  an  automobile  ;  I  never  did  know  exactly  how 
it  happened,  —  we  looked  at  each  other,  and  he  slowed  up 
and  came  back  and  asked  us  to  take  a  ride.  I  had  never 
been  in  one  of  those  things  —  but  that  wasn't  why  I  went, 
I  guess.  Well,  the  rest  was  easy.  He  lost  his  head,  and 
I  was  just  as  bad.  You  wouldn't  believe  me  if  I  told  you 


244  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

how  rich  he  was :  it  scared  me  when  I  found  out  about 
him,  and  he  was  so  handsome  and  full  of  fun  and  spirits, 
and  generous  !  I  never  knew  anybody  like  him.  Honest, 
I  never  expected  he'd  want  to  marry  me.  He  didn't  at 
first, — it  was  only  after  a  while.  I  never  asked  him  to, 
and  when  he  began  to  talk  about  it  I  told  him  it  would 
cut  him  off  from  his  swell  friends,  and  I  knew  his  father 
might  turn  him  loose.  Oh,  it  wasn't  the  money  !  Well, 
he'd  get  mad  all  through,  and  say  he  never  got  along 
with  the  old  man,  and  that  his  friends  would  have  to  take 
me,  and  he  couldn't  live  without  me.  He  said  he  would 
have  me  educated,  and  bought  me  books,  and  I  tried  to 
read  them.  I'd  have  done  anything  for  him.  He'd  knocked 
around  a  good  deal  since  he'd  been  to  Harvard  College, 
—  he  wasn't  what  you'd  call  a  saint,  but  his  heart  was  all 
right.  And  he  changed,  too,  I  could  see  it.  He  said  he 
was  going  to  make  something  out  of  himself. 

"  I  didn't  think  it  was  possible  to  be  so  happy,  but  I 
had  a  feeling  all  along,  inside  of  me,  that  it  couldn't  come 
off.  I  had  a  little  flat  in  Rutger  Street,  over  on  the  south 
side,  and  everything  in  the  world  I  wanted.  Well,  one 
day,  sure  enough,  the  bell  rang  and  I  opened  the  door, 
and  there  stood  a  man  with  side  whiskers  staring  at  me, 
and  staring  until  I  was  frightened  to  death.  I  never  saw 
such  eyes  as  he  had.  And  all  of  a  sudden  I  knew  it  was 
his  father. 

" 4  Is  this  Miss  Marcy  ? '"  he  said. 

"  I  couldn't  say  anything  at  all,  but  he  handed  me  his 
card  and  smiled,  I'll  never  forget  how  he  smiled  —  and 
came  right  in  and  sat  down.  I'd  heard  of  that  man  all 
my  life,  and  how  much  money  he'd  made,  and  all  that. 
Why,  up  in  Madison  folks  used  to  talk  about  him  — 
she  checked  herself  suddenly  and  stared  at  Hodder  in 
consternation.  "  Maybe  you  know  him  !  "  she  exclaimed. 
"I  never  thought !  " 

"  Maybe  I  do,"  he  assented  wearily.  In  the  past  few 
moments  suspicion  had  become  conviction. 

"  Well  —  what  difference  does  it  make  —  now  ?  It's 
all  over,  and  I'm  not  going  to  bother  him.  I  made  up  my 


AMID  THE  ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  245 

mind  I  wouldn't,  on  account  of  him,  you  understand.  I 
never  fell  that  low  —  thank  God  !  " 

Hodder  nodded.  He  could  not  speak.  .  .  .  The 
woman  seemed  to  be  living  over  again  that  scene,  in  her 
imagination. 

"  I  just  couldn't  realize  who  it  was  sitting  there  beside 
me,  but  if  I  hadn't  known  it  wouldn't  have  made  any  dif 
ference.  He  could  have  done  anything  with  me,  anyway, 
and  he  knew  how  to  get  at  me.  He  said,  now  that  he'd 
seen  me,  that  he  was  sure  I  was  a  good  girl  at  the  bottom 
and  loved  his  son,  and  that  I  wouldn't  want  to  ruin  the 
boy  when  he  had  such  a  big  future  ahead  of  him.  I 
wouldn't  have  thought,  to  look  at  the  man,  that  he  could 
have  been  so  gentle.  I  made  a  fool  of  myself  and  cried, 
and  told  him  I'd  go  away  and  never  see  his  son  any  more 

—  that  I'd  always  been  against  marrying  him.     Well,  he 
almost  had  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  thanked  me  and  said 
I'd  never  regret  it,  and  he  pulled  an  envelope  out  of  his 
pocket.     I  said  I  wouldn't  take  any  money,  and  gave  it 
back  to  him.     I've  always  been  sorry  since  that  I  didn't 
make  him  take  it  back — it  never  did  anything  but  harm 
to  me.     But  he  had  his  way.     He  laid  it  on  the  table  and 
said  he  wouldn't  feel  right,  and  took  my  hand  —  and  I 
just  didn't  care. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  I  did  after  he'd  gone  ?  I 
went  and  played  a  piece  on  the  piano,  —  and  I  never  can 
bear  to  hear  that  ragtime  to  this  day.  I  couldn't  seem  to 
feel  anything.  And  after  a  while  I  got  up  and  opened  the 
envelope  —  it  was  full  of  crackly  new  hundred  dollar  bills 

—  thirty  of  'em,  and  as  I  sat  there  staring  at  'em  the  pain 
came  on,  like  a  toothache,  in  throbs,  getting  worse  all  the 
time  until  I  just  couldn't  stand  it.     I  had  a  notion  of 
sending  the  money  back  even  then,  but  I  didn't.     I  didn't 
know  how  to  do  it,  — and  as  I  told  you,  I  wasn't  able  to 
care  much.     Then  I  remembered  I'd  promised  to  go  away, 
and  I  had  to  have  some  money  for  that,  and  if  I  didn't 
leave  right  off  I  wouldn't  have  the  strength  to  do  it.     I 
hadn't  even  thought  where  to  go :  I  couldn't  think,  so  I 
got  dressed  and  went  down  to  the  depot  anyway.     It  was 


246  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

one  of  those  bright,  bitter  cold  winter  days  after  a  tha\v 
when  the  icicles  are  hanging  everywhere.  I  went  inside 
and  walked  up  and  down  that  long  platform  under  the 
glass  roof.  My,  it  was  cold  in  there  !  I  looked  over  all 
the  signs,  and  made  up  my  mind  I'd  go  to  Chicago. 

44  I  meant  to  work,  I  never  meant  to  spend  the  money, 
but  to  send  it  back.  I'd  put  it  aside  —  and  then  I'd  go 
and  take  a  little.  Say,  it  was  easy  not  to  work  —  and  I 
didn't  care  what  happened  to  me  as  long  as  I  wasn't  going 
to  see  him  again.  Well,  I'm  not  trying  to  smooth  it  over, 
I  suppose  there  was  something  crooked  about  me  from 
the  start,  but  I  just  went  clean  to  hell  with  that  money, 
and  when  I  heard  he'd  gone  away,  I  came  back  here." 

44  Something  crooked  !  "  The  words  rang  in  Hodder's 
ears,  in  his  very  soul.  How  was  he  or  any  man  to  esti 
mate,  to  unravel  the  justice  from  the  injustice,  to  pass  upon 
the  merit  of  this  woman's  punishment?  Here  again,  in 
this  vitiated  life,  was  only  to  be  seen  the  remorseless 
working  of  law  —  cause  and  effect.  Crooked!  Had  not 
the  tree  been  crooked  from  the  beginning  —  incapable  of 
being  straightened  ?  She  had  herself  naively  confessed 
it.  Was  not  the  twist  ingrained  ?  And  if  so,  where  was 
the  salvation  he  had  preached  ?  There  was  good  in  her 
still,  —  but  what  was  "  good  "  ?  .  .  .  He  took  no  account 
of  his  profound  compassion. 

What  comfort  could  he  give  her,  what  hope  could  he 
hold  out  that  the  twist,  now  gnarled  and  knotted,  might 
be  removed,  that  she  might  gain  peace  of  soul  and  body 
and  the  "  happiness  "  of  which  he  had  talked  with  Alison 
Parr  ?  .  .  .  He  raised  his  eyes,  to  discover  that  the 
woman's  were  fixed  upon  him,  questioningly. 

44 1  suppose  I  was  a  fool  to  tell  you,"  she  said,  with  a 
shade  of  her  old  bitterness  ;  44it  can't  do  any  good."  Her 
next  remark  was  startlingly  astute.  44  You've  found  out 
for  yourself,  I  guess,  that  all  this  talk  about  heaven  and 
hell  and  repentance  don't  amount  to  anything.  Hell 
couldn't  be  any  worse  than  I've  been  through,  no  matter 
how  hot  it  is.  And  heaven !  "  She  laughed,  burst  into 
tears,  and  quickly  dried  them.  44  You  know  the  man  I've 


AMID   THE  ENCIRCLING   GLOOM  247 

been  talking  about,  that  bought  me  off.  I  didn't  intend 
to  tell  you,  but  I  see  you  can't  help  knowing  —  Eldon 
Parr.  I  don't  say  he  didn't  do  right  from  his  way  of 
looking  at  things,  —  but  say,  it  wasn't  exactly  Christian, 
was  it  ?  " 

"No,"  he  said,  "it  wasn't."  He  bowed  his  head,  and 
presently,  when  he  raised  it  again,  he  caught  something 
in  her  look  that  puzzled  and  disturbed  him  —  an  element 
of  adoration. 

"  You're  white  through  and  through,"  she  said,  slowly 
and  distinctly. 

And  he  knew  not  how  to  protest. 

"  I'll  tell  you  something,"  she  went  on,  as  one  who  has 
made  a  discovery.  "  I  liked  you  the  first  time  you  came 
in  here  —  that  night  —  when  you  wanted  me  to  be  friends ; 
well,  there  was  something  that  seemed  to  make  it  impos 
sible  then.  I  felt  it,  if  you  didn't."  She  groped  for 
words.  "  I  can't  explain  what  it  was,  but  now  it's  gone. 
You're  different.  I  think  a  lot  more  of  you.  Maybe  it's 
because  of  what  you  did  at  Harrod's,  sitting  down  with 
me  and  giving  me  supper  when  I  was  so  hungry,  and  the 
champagne.  You  weren't  ashamed  of  me." 

"  Good  God,  why  should  I  have  been  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  !  Why  shouldn't  you  ? "  she  cried  fiercely. 
"  There's  hardly  a  man  in  that  place  that  wouldn't  have 
been.  They  all  know  me  by  sight  —  and  some  of  'em  — 
better.  You  didn't  see  'em  grinning  when  I  came  up  to 
you,  but  I  did.  My  God  —  it's  awful  —  it's  awful !  .  .  .  " 
She  burst  into  violent  weeping,  long  deferred. 

He  took  her  hand  in  his,  and  did  not  speak,  waiting  for 
the  fit  to  spend  itself.  .  .  .  And  after  a  while  the  con 
vulsive  shudders  that  shook  her  gradually  ceased. 

"  You  must  trust  me,"  he  said.  "  The  first  thing  to 
morrow  I'm  going  to  make  arrangements  for  you  to  get 
out  of  these  rooms.  You  can't  stay  here  any  longer." 

"  That's  sure,"  she  answered,  trying  to  smile.  "  I'm 
broke.  I  even  owe  the  co  —  the  policeman." 

"  The  policeman  !  " 

"  He  has  to  turn  it  in  to  Tom  Beatty  and  the  politicians." 


248  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Beatty  !  Where  had  he  heard  the  name  ?  Suddenly  it 
came  to  him  that  Beatty  was  the  city  boss,  who  had  been 
eulogized  by  Mr.  Plimpton  ! 

"  I  have  some  good  friends  who  will  be  glad  to  help 
you  to  get  work  —  and  until  you  do  get  work.  You  will 
have  to  fight  —  but  we  all  have  to  fight.  Will  you  try  ?  " 

"  Sure,  I'll  try,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice. 

Her  very  tone  of  submission  troubled  him.  And  he 
had  a  feeling  that,  if  he  had  demanded,  she  would  have 
acquiesced  in  anything. 

"  We'll  talk  it  over  to-morrow,"  he  went  on,  clinging 
to  his  note  of  optimism.  "  We'll  find  out  what  you  can 
do  easiest,  to  begin  with." 

"  I  might  give  music  lessons,"  she  suggested. 

The  remark  increased  his  uneasiness,  for  he  recognized 
in  it  a  sure  symptom  of  disease  —  a  relapse  into  what 
might  almost  have  been  called  levity,  blindness  to  the 
supreme  tragedy  of  her  life  which  but  a  moment  before 
had  shaken  and  appalled  her.  He  shook  his  head  bravely  : 

"  I'm  afraid  that  wouldn't  do  —  at  first." 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  other  room,  returning  in  a 
few  moments  with  a  work  basket,  from  which  she  drew  a 
soiled  and  unfinished  piece  of  embroidery. 

"  There's  a  bureau  cover  I  started  when  I  was  at 
Pratt's,"  she  said,  as  she  straightened  it  over  her  knees. 
"  It's  a  copy  of  an  expensive  one.  I  never  had  the  pa 
tience  to  finish  it,  but  one  of  the  salesladies  there,  who 
was  an  expert,  told  me  it  was  pretty  good.  She  taught 
me  the  stitch,  and  I  had  a  notion  at  that  time  I  might 
make  a  little  money  for  dresses  and  the  theatre.  I  was 
always  clever  with  my  hands." 

"  The  very  thing ! "  he  said,  with  hopeful  emphasis. 
"  I'm  sure  I  can  get  you  plenty  of  it  to  do.  And  I'll  come 
back  in  the  morning." 

He  gave  it  back  to  her,  and  as  she  was  folding  it  his 
glance  fell  on  a  photograph  in  the  basket. 

"I  kept  it,  I  don't  know  why,"  he  heard  her  say;  "I 
didn't  have  the  heart  to  burn  it." 

He  started,  recovered  himself,  and  rose. 


AMID   THE   ENCIECLING   GLOOM  249 

"  I'll  go  to  see  the  agent  the  first  thing  to-morrow,"  he 
said.  "And  then — you'll  be  ready  for  me?  You  trust 
me?" 

"  I'd  do  anything  for  you,"  was  her  tremulous  reply. 

Her  disquieting,  submissive  smile  haunted  him  as  he 
groped  his  way  down  the  stairs  to  the  street,  and  then  the 
face  in  the  photograph  replaced  it  —  the  laughing  eyes, 
the  wilful,  pleasure-loving  mouth  he  had  seen  in  the  school 
and  college  pictures  of  Preston  Parr. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

RECONSTRUCTION 


LIFE  had  indeed  become  complicated,  paradoxical.  He, 
John  Hodder,  a  clergyman,  rector  of  St.  John's  by  virtue 
of  not  having  resigned,  had  entered  a  restaurant  of  ill 
repute,  had  ordered  champagne  for  an  abandoned  woman, 
and  had  no  sense  of  sin  when  he  awoke  the  next  morning! 
The  devil,  in  the  language  of  orthodox  theology,  had  led 
him  there.  He  had  fallen  under  the  influence  of  the 
tempter  of  his  youth,  and  all  in  him  save  the  carnal  had 
been  blotted  out. 

More  paradoxes  !  If  the  devil  had  not  taken  possession 
of  him  and  led  him  there,  it  were  more  than  probable  that 
he  could  never  have  succeeded  in  any  other  way  in  getting 
on  a  footing  of  friendship  with  this  woman,  Kate  Marcy. 
Her  future,  to  be  sure,  was  problematical.  Here  was  no 
simple,  sentimental  case  he  might  formerly  have  imagined, 
of  trusting  innocence  betrayed,  but  a  mixture  of  good  and 
evil,  selfishness  and  unselfishness.  And  she  had,  in  spite 
of  all,  known  the  love  which  en°  ces  self !  Could  the  dis 
integration,  in  her  case,  be  arrested? 

Gradually  Hodder  was  filled  with  a  feeling  which  may 
be  called  amazement  because,  although  his  brain  was  no 
nearer  to  a  solution  than  before,  he  was  not  despondent. 
For  a  month  he  had  not  permitted  his  mind  to  dwell  on 
the  riddle  ;  yet  this  morning  he  felt  stirring  within  him  a 
new  energy  for  which  he  could  not  account,  a  hope  uncon 
nected  with  any  mental  process  !  He  felt  in  touch,  once 
more,  faintly  but  perceptibly,  with  something  stable  in  the 
chaos.  In  bygone  years  he  had  not  seen  the  chaos,  but 
the  illusion  of  an  orderly  world,  a  continual  succession  of 

250 


KECONSTKUCTION  251 

sunrises,  couleur  de  rose,  from  the  heights  above  Bremerton. 
Now  were  the  scales  fallen  from  his  eyes  ;  now  he  saw  the 
evil,  the  injustice,  the  despair ;  felt,  in  truth,  the  weight 
of  the  sorrow  of  it  all,  and  yet  that  sorrow  was  unaccount 
ably  transmuted,  as  by  a  chemical  process,  into  something 
which  for  the  first  time  had  a  meaning  —  he  could  not  say 
what  meaning.  The  sting  of  despair  had  somehow  been 
taken  out  of  it,  and  it  remained  poignant  ! 

Not  on  the  obsession  of  the  night  before,  when  he  had 
walked  down  Dalton  Street  and  beheld  it  transformed  into 
a  realm  of  adventure,  but  upon  his  past  life  did  he  look 
back  now  with  horror,  upon  the  even  tenor  of  those  days 
and  years  in  the  bright  places.  His  had  been  the  highroad 
of  a  fancied  security,  from  which  he  had  feared  to  stray, 
to  seek  his  God  across  the  rough  face  of  nature,  from  black, 
forgotten  canons  to  the  flying  peaks  in  space.  He  had 
feared  reality.  He  had  insisted  upon  gazing  at  the  uni 
verse  through  the  coloured  glasses  of  an  outworn  theology, 
instead  of  using  his  own  eyes. 

So  he  had  left  the  highroad,  the  beaten  way  of  salvation 
many  others  had  deserted,  had  flung  off  his  spectacles,  had 
plunged  into  reality,  to  be  scratched  and  battered,  to  lose 
his  way.  Not  until  now  had  something  of  grim  zest  come 
to  him,  of  an  instinct  which  was  the  first  groping  of  a 
vision,  as  to  where  his  own  path  might  lie.  Through  what 
thickets  and  over  what  mountains  he  knew  not  as  yet  — 
nor  cared  to  know.  He  felt  resistance,  whereas  on 
the  highroad  he  had  felt  none.  On  the  highroad  his 
cry  had  gone  unheeded  and  unheard,  yet  by  holding 
out  his  hand  in  the  wilderness  he  had  helped  another, 
bruised  and  bleeding,  to  her  feet !  Salvation  '  Let  it  be 
what  it  might  be,  he  would  go  on,  stumbling  and  seeking, 
through  reality. 

Even  this  last  revelation,  of  Eldon  Parr's  agency 
in  another  tragedy,  seemed  to  have  no  further  power 
to  affect  him.  .  .  .  Nor  could  Hodder  think  of  Alison 
as  in  blood-relationship  to  the  financier,  or  even  to  the 
boy,  whose  open,  pleasure-loving  face  he  had  seen  in  the 
photograph. 


252  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 


II 

A  presage  of  autumn  was  in  the  air,  and  a  fine,  misty 
rain  drifted  in  at  his  windows  as  he  sat  at  his  breakfast. 
He  took  deep  breaths  of  the  moisture,  and  it  seemed  to 
water  and  revive  his  parching  soul.  He  found  himself, 
to  his  surprise,  surveying  with  equanimity  the  pile  of  books 
in  the  corner  which  had  led  him  to  the  conviction  of  the 
emptiness  of  the  universe  —  but  the  universe  was  no  longer 
empty  !  It  was  cruel,  but  a  warring  force  was  at  work  in 
it  which  was  not  blind,  but  directed.  He  could  not  say 
why  this  was  so,  but  he  knew  it,  he  felt  it,  sensed  its  energy 
within  him  as  he  set  out  for  Dalton  Street. 

He  was  neither  happy  nor  unhappy,  but  in  equilibrium, 
walking  with  sure  steps,  and  the  anxiety  in  which  he  had 
fallen  asleep  the  night  before  was  gone :  anxiety  lest  the 
woman  should  have  fled,  or  changed  her  mind,  or  com 
mitted  some  act  of  desperation. 

In  Dalton  Street  a  thin  coat  of  yellow  mud  glistened  on 
the  asphalt,  but  even  the  dreariness  of  this  neighbourhood 
seemed  transient.  He  rang  the  bell  of  the  flat,  the  door 
swung  open,  and  in  the  hall  above  a  woman  awaited  him. 
She  was  clad  in  black. 

"You  wouldn't  know  me,  would  you?"  she  inquired. 
"  Say,  I  scarcely  know  myself.  I  used  to  wear  this  dress 
at  Pratt's,  with  white  collars  and  cuffs  and  —  well,  I  just 
put  it  on  again.  I  had  it  in  the  bottom  of  my  trunk,  and 
I  guessed  you'd  like  it." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  at  first,"  he  said,  and  the  pleasure 
in  his  face  was  her  reward. 

The  transformation,  indeed,  was  more  remarkable 
than  he  could  have  believed  possible,  for  respectability 
itself  would  seem  to  have  been  regained  by  a  costume, 
and  the  abundance  of  her  remarkable  hair  was  now 
repressed.  The  absence  of  paint  made  her  cheeks 
strangely  white,  the  hollows  under  the  eyes  darker.  The 
eyes  themselves  alone  betrayed  the  woman  of  yesterday ; 
they  still  burned. 


RECONSTRUCTION  253 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  looking  around  him,  "  you  have 
been  busy,  haven't  you?  " 

44  I've  been  up  since  six,"  she  told  him  proudly.  The 
tiat  had  been  dismantled  of  its  meagre  furniture,  the  rug 
vvas  rolled  up  and  tied,  and  a  trunk  strapped  with  rope 
was  in  the  middle  cf  the  floor.  Her  next  remark  brought 
home  to  him  the  full  responsibility  of  his  situation.  She 
led  him  to  the  window,  and  pointed  to  a  spot  among  the 
drenched  weeds  and  rubbish  in  the  yard  next  door.  "  Do 
you  see  that  bottle  ?  That's  the  first  thing  I  did  —  flung 
it  out  there.  It  didn't  break,"  she  added  significantly, 
"and  there  are  three  drinks  in  it  yet." 

Once  more  he  confined  his  approval  to  his  glance. 

"  Now  you  must  come  and  have  some  breakfast,"  he  said 
briskly.  u  If  I  had  thought  about  it  I  should  have  waited 
to  have  it  with  you." 

"  I'm  not  hungry."  In  the  light  of  his  new  knowledge, 
he  connected  her  sudden  dejection  with  the  sight  of  the 
bottle. 

"  But  you  must  eat.  You're  exhausted  from  all  this 
work.  And  a  cup  of  coffee  will  make  all  the  difference  in 
the  world." 

She  yielded,  pinning  on  her  hat.  And  he  led  her,  holding 
the  umbrella  over  her,  to  a  restaurant  in  Tower  Street,  where 
a  man  in  a  white  cap  and  apron  was  baking  cakes  behind 
a  plate-glass  window.  She  drank  the  coffee,  but  in  her 
excitement  left  the  rest  of  the  breakfast  almost  untasted. 

"Say,"  she  asked  him  once,  "why  are  you  doing  this?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  "  except  that  it  gives  me 
pleasure." 

"Pleasure?" 

"Yes.     It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  were  of  some  use." 

She  considered  this. 

"  Well,"  she  observed,  revived  by  the  coffee,  "  you're 
the  queerest  minister  Jever  saw." 

When  they  had  reached  the  pavement  she  asked  him 
where  they  were  going. 

"  To  see  a  friend  of  mine,  and  a  friend  of  yours,"  he 
told  her.  "  He  does  not  live  far  from  here." 


254  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

She  was  silent  again,  acquiescing.  The  rain  had  stopped, 
the  sun  was  peeping  out  furtively  through  the  clouds,  the 
early  loiterers  in  Dalton  Street  stared  at  them  curiously. 
But  Hodder  was  thinking  of  that  house  whither  they  were 
bound  with  a  new  gratitude,  a  new  wonder  that  it  should 
exist.  Thus  they  came  to  the  sheltered  vestibule  with  its 
glistening  white  paint,  its  polished  name  plate  and  door 
knob.  The  grinning,  hospitable  darky  appeared  in  answer 
to  the  rector's  ring. 

"  Good  morning,  Sam,"  he  said ;  "  is  Mr.  Bentley  in  ?  " 

Sam  ushered  them  ceremoniously  into  the  library,  and 
Kate  Marcy  gazed  about  her  with  awe,  as  at  something 
absolutely  foreign  to  her  experience:  the  New  Barrington 
Hotel,  the  latest  pride  of  the  city,  recently  erected  at  the 
corner  of  Tower  and  Jefferson  and  furnished  in  the  French 
style,  she  might  partially  have  understood.  Had  she  been 
marvellously  arid  suddenly  transported  and  established 
there,  existence  might  still  have  evinced  a  certain  con 
tinuity.  But  this  house !  .  .  . 

Mr.  Bentley  rose  from  the  desk  in  the  corner. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  Hodder,"  he  said  cheerfully,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  rector's  arm.  "I  was  just  thinking  about 
you." 

"  This  is  Miss  Marcy,  Mr.  Bentley,"  Hodder  said. 

Mr.  Bentley  took  her  hand  and  led  her  to  a  chair. 

"  Mr.  Hodder  knows  how  fond  I  am  of  young  women," 
he  said.  "  I  have  six  of  them  upstairs,  —  so  I  am  never 
lonely." 

Mr.  Bentley  did  not  appear  to  notice  that  her  lips 
quivered. 

Hodder  turned  his  eyes  from  her  face.  "  Miss  Marcy 
has  been  lonely,"  he  explained,  "  and  I  thought  we  might 
get  her  a  room  near  by,  where  she  might  see  them  often. 
She  is  going  to  do  embroidery." 

"  Why,  Sally  will  know  of  a  room,"  Mr.  Bentley  re 
plied.  "  Sam  !  "  he  called. 

"  Yessah  —  yes,  Mistah  Ho'ace."  Sam  appeared  at  the 
door. 

"  Ask  Miss  Sally  to  come  down,  if  she's  not  busy." 


BECONSTKUCTION  255 

Kate  Marcy  sat  dumbly  in  her  chair,  her  hands  convul 
sively  clasping  its  arms,  her  breast  heaving  stormily,  her 
face  becoming  intense  with  the  effort  of  repressing  the 
wild  emotion  within  her:  emotion  that  threatened  to 
strangle  her  if  resisted,  or  to  sweep  her  out  like  a  tide 
and  drown  her  in  deep  waters :  emotion  that  had  no  one 
meaning,  and  yet  summed  up  a  life,  —  mysteriously  and 
overwhelmingly  aroused  by  the  sight  of  a  room,  and  of  a 
kindly  old  gentleman  who  lived  in  it ! 

Mr.  Bentley  took  the  chair  beside  her. 

"Why,  I  believe  it's  going  to  clear  off,  after  all,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Sam  predicted  it,  before  breakfast.  He 
pretends  to  be  able  to  tell  by  the  flowers.  After  a  while 
I  must  show  you  my  flowers,  Miss  Marcy,  and  what  Dai- 
ton  Street  can  do  by  way  of  a  garden  —  Mr.  Hodder  could 
hardly  believe  it,  even  when  he  saw  it."  Thus  he  went 
on,  the  tips  of  his  fingers  pressed  together,  his  head  bent 
forward  in  familiar  attitude,  his  face  lighted,  speaking 
naturally  of  trivial  things  that  seemed  to  suggest  them 
selves  ;  and  careful,  with  exquisite  tact  that  did  not  be 
tray  itself,  to  address  both.  A  passing  automobile  startled 
her  with  the  blast  of  its  horn.  "  I'm  afraid  I  shall  never 
get  accustomed  to  them,"  he  lamented.  "  At  first  I  used 
to  be  thankful  there  were  no  trolley  cars  on  this  street, 
but  I  believe  the  automobiles  are  worse." 

A  figure  flitted  through  the  hall  and  into  the  room, 
which  Hodder  recognized  as  Miss  Grover's.  She  re 
minded  him  of  a  flying  shuttle  across  the  warp  of  Mr. 
Bentley's  threads,  weaving  them  together  ;  swift,  sure,  yet 
never  hurried  or  flustered.  One  glance  at  the  speechless 
woman  seemed  to  suffice  her  for  a  knowledge  of  the 
situation. 

"  Mr.  Hodder  has  brought  us  a  new  friend  and  neigh 
bour,  Sally,  —  Miss  Kate  Marcy.  She  is  to  have  a  room 
near  us,  that  we  may  see  her  often." 

Hodder  watched  Miss  Grover's  procedure  with  a  breath 
less  interest. 

"Why,  Mrs.  McQuillen  has  a  room  —  across  the  street, 
you  know,  Mr.  Bentley." 


256  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Sally  perched  herself  on  the  edge  of  the  armchair  and 
laid  her  hand  lightly  on  Kate  Marcy's. 

Even  Sally  Grover  was  powerless  to  prevent  the  inevi 
table,  and  the  touch  of  her  hand  seemed  the  signal  for  the 
release  of  the  pent-up  forces.  The  worn  body,  the  worn 
nerves,  the  weakened  will  gave  way,  and  Kate  Marcy  burst 
into  a  paroxysm  of  weeping  that  gradually  became  auto 
matic,  convulsive,  like  a  child's.  There  was  no  damming 
this  torrent,  once  released.  Kindness,  disinterested  friend 
ship,  was  the  one  unbearable  thing. 

"  We  must  bring  her  upstairs,"  said  Sally  Grover, 
quietly,  "she's  going  to  pieces." 

Hodder  helping,  they  fairly  carried  her  up  the  flight, 
and  laid  her  on  Sally  Grover's  own  bed. 

That  afternoon  she  was  taken  to  Mrs.  McQuillen's. 

in 

The  fiends  are  not  easily  cheated.  And  during  the 
nights  and  days  that  followed  even  Sally  Grover,  whose 
slight  frame  was  tireless,  whose  stoicism  was  amazing, 
came  out  of  the  sick  room  with  a  white  face  and  com 
pressed  lips.  Tossing  on  the  mattress,  Kate  Marcy  en 
acted  over  again  incident  after  incident  of  her  past  life, 
events  natural  to  an  existence  which  had  been  largely  de 
void  of  self-pity,  but  which  now,  clearly  enough,  tested 
the  extreme  limits  of  suffering.  Once  more,  in  her  visions, 
she  walked  the  streets,  wearily  measuring  the  dark,  empty 
blocks,  footsore,  into  the  smaller  hours  of  the  night;  slyly, 
insinuatingly,  pathetically  offering  herself — all  she  pos 
sessed —  to  the  hovering  beasts  of  prey.  And  even  these 
rejected  her,  with  gibes,  with  obscene  jests  that  sprang  to 
her  lips  and  brought  a  shudder  to  those  who  heard. 

Sometimes  they  beheld  flare  up  fitfully  that  mysterious 
thing  called  the  human  spirit,  which  all  this  crushing  pro 
cess  had  not  served  to  extinguish.  She  seemed  to  be  de 
fending  her  rights,  whatever  these  may  have  been  !  She 
expostulated  with  policemen.  And  once,  when  Hodder 
was  present,  she  brought  back  vividly  to  his  mind  that 


RECONSTRUCTION  257 

first  night  he  had  seen  her,  when  she  had  defied  him  and 
sent  him  away.  In  moments  she  lived  over  again  the  care 
less,  reckless  days  when  money  and  good  looks  had  not 
been  lacking,  when  rich  food  and  wines  had  been  plentiful. 
And  there  were  other  events  which  Sally  Grover  and  the 
good-natured  Irishwoman,  Mrs.  McQuillen,  not  holding 
the  key,  could  but  dimly  comprehend.  Education,  envi 
ronment,  inheritance,  character  —  what  a  jumble  of  causes  ! 
What  Judge  was  to  unravel  them,  and  assign  the  exact 
amount  of  responsibility  ? 

There  were  other  terrible  scenes  when,  more  than  semi 
conscious,  she  cried  out  piteously  for  drink,  and  cursed 
them  for  withholding  it.  And  it  was  in  the  midst  of  one 
of  these  that  an  incident  occurred  which  made  a  deep  im 
pression  upon  young  Dr.  Giddings,  hesitating  with  his 
opiates,  and  assisting  the  indomitable  Miss  Grover  to  hold 
his  patient.  In  the  midst  of  the  paroxysm  Mr.  Bentley  en 
tered  and  stood  over  her  by  the  bedside,  and  suddenly  her 
struggles  ceased.  At  first  she  lay  intensely  still,  staring  at 
him  with  wide  eyes  of  fear.  He  sat  down  and  took  her 
hand,  and  spoke  to  her,  quietly  and  naturally,  and  her 
pupils  relaxed.  She  fell  into  a  sleep,  still  clinging  to  his 
fingers. 

It  was  Sally  who  opposed  the  doctor's  wish  to  send  her 
to  a  hospital. 

"If  it's  only  a  question  of  getting  back  her  health,  she'd 
better  die,"  she  declared.  "We've  got  but  one  chance 
with  her,  Dr.  Giddings,  to  keep  her  here.  When  she  finds 
out  she's  been  to  a  hospital,  that  will  be  the  end  of  it  with 
her  kind.  We'll  never  get  hold  of  her  again.  I'll  take 
care  of  Mrs.  McQuillen." 

Doctor  Giddings  was  impressed  by  this  wisdom. 

"You  think  you  have  a  chance,  Miss  Grover?"  he  asked. 
He  had  had  a  hospital  experience. 

Miss  Grover  was  wont  to  express  optimism  in  deeds 
rather  than  words. 

"  If  I  didn't  think  so,  I'd  ask  you  to  put  a  little  more 
in  your  hypodermic  next  time,"  she  replied. 

And  the  doctor  went  away,  wondering.   .   .  . 


258  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

Drink !  Convalescence  brought  little  release  for  the 
watchers.  The  fiends  would  retire,  pretending  to  have 
abandoned  the  field,  only  to  swoop  down  again  when  least 
expected.  There  were  periods  of  calm  when  it  seemed  as 
though  a  new  and  bewildered  personality  were  emerging, 
amazed  to  find  in  life  a  kindly  thing,  gazing  at  the  world 
as  one  new-born.  And  again,  Mrs.  McQuillen  or  Ella 
Finley  might  be  seen  running  bareheaded  across  the  street 
for  Miss  Grover.  Physical  force  was  needed,  as  the  rector 
discovered  on  one  occasion  ;  physical  force,  and  something 
more,  a  dauntlessness  that  kept  Sally  Grover  in  the  room 
after  the  other  women  had  fled  in  terror.  Then  remorse, 
despondency,  another  fear.  .  .  . 

As  the  weeks  went  by,  the  relapses  certainly  became 
fevrer.  Something  was  at  work,  as  real  in  its  effects  as 
the  sunlight,  but  invisible.  Hodder  felt  it,  and  watched 
in  suspense  while  it  fought  the  beasts  in  this  woman, 
rending  her  frame  in  anguish.  The  frame  might  succumb, 
the  breath  might  leave  it  to  moulder,  but  the  struggle,  he 
knew,  would  go  until  the  beasts  were  conquered.  Whence 
this  knowledge?  —  for  it  was  knowledge. 

On  the  quieter  days  of  her  convalescence  she  seemed, 
indeed,  more  Madonna  than  Magdalen  as  she  sat  against 
the  pillows,  her  red-gold  hair  lying  in  two  heavy  plaits 
across  her  shoulders,  her  cheeks  pale;  the  inner,  consum 
ing  fires  that  smouldered  in  her  eyes  died  down.  At 
such  times  her  newly  awakened  innocence  (if  it  might  be 
called  such; — pathetic  innocence,  in  truth!)  struck  awe 
into  Hodder;  her  wonder  was  matched  by  his  own. 
Could  there  be  another  meaning  in  life  than  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure,  than  the  weary  effort  to  keep  the  body  alive  ? 
Such  was  her  query,  unformulated.  What  animated  these 
persons  who  had  struggled  over  her  so  desperately,  — 
Sally  Grover,  Mr.  Bentley,  and  Hodder  himself  ?  Thus 
her  opening  mind.  For  she  had  a  mind. 

Mr.  Bentle}^  was  the  chief  topic,  and  little  by  little  he 
became  exalted  into  a  mystery  of  which  she  sought  the 
explanation. 

"  I  never  knew  anybody  like  him,"  she  would  exclaim. 


RECONSTRUCTION  259 

"  Why,  I'd  seen  him  on  Dalton  Street  with  the  children 
following  him,  and  I  saw  him  again  that  day  of  the 
funeral.  Some  of  the  girls  I  knew  used  to  laugh  at  him. 
We  thought  he  was  queer.  And  then,  when  you  brought 
me  to  him  that  morning  and  he  got  up  and  treated  me 
like  a  lady,  I  just  couldn't  stand  it.  I  never  felt  so 
terrible  in  my  life.  I  just  wanted  to  die,  right  then  and 
there.  Something  inside  of  me  kept  pressing  and  press 
ing,  until  I  thought  I  would  die.  I  knew  what  it  was 
to  hate  myself,  but  I  never  hated  myself  as  I  have  since 
then. 

"He  never  says  anything  about  God,  and  you  don't, 
but  when  he  comes  in  here  he  seems  like  God  to  me. 
He's  so  peaceful,  —  he  makes  me  peaceful.  I  remember 
the  minister  in  Madison,  —  he  was  a  putty-faced  man 
with  indigestion,  —  and  when  he  prayed  he  used  to  close 
his  eyes  and  try  to  look  pious,  but  he  never  fooled  me. 
He  never  made  me  believe  he  knew  anything  about  God. 
And  don't  think  for  a  minute  he'd  have  done  what  you 
and  Miss  Grover  and  Mr.  Bentley  did!  He  used  to  cross 
the  street  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  drunken  men  —  he 
wouldn't  have  one  of  them  in  his  church.  And  I  know 
of  a  girl  he  drove  out  of  town  because  she  had  a  baby 
and  her  sweetheart  wouldn't  marry  her.  He  sent  her 
to  hell.  Hell's  here  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

These  sudden  remarks  of  hers  surprised  and  troubled 
him.  But  they  had  another  effect,  a  constructive  effect. 
He  was  astonished,  in  going  over  such  conversations 
afterwards,  to  discover  that  her  questions  and  his  efforts 
to  answer  them  in  other  than  theological  terms  were  both 
illuminating  and  stimulating.  Sayings  in  the  Gospels 
leaped  out  in  his  mind,  fired  with  new  meanings  ;  so 
simple,  once  perceived,  that  he  was  amazed  not  to  have 
seen  them  before.  And  then  he  was  conscious  of  a  pal 
pitating  joy  which  left  in  its  wake  a  profound  thankful 
ness.  He  made  no  attempt  as  yet  to  correlate  these 
increments,  these  glimpses  of  truth  into  a  system,  but 
stored  them  preciously  away. 

He  taxed  his  heart  and  intellect  to  answer  her  sensibly 


260  THE  INSIDE  OF  THE   CUP 

arid  helpfully,  and  thus  found  himself  avoiding  the 
the  Greek  philosophy,  the  outworn  and  meaningless 
phrases  of  speculation;  found  himself  employing  (with 
extraordinary  effect  upon  them  both)  the  simple  words 
from  which  many  of  these  theories  had  been  derived. 
"  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father."  What 
she  saw  in  Horace  Bentley,  he  explained,  was  God.  God 
wished  us  to  know  how  to  live,  in  order  that  we  might 
find  happiness,  and  therefore  Christ  taught  us  that  the 
way  to  find  happiness  was  to  teach  others  how  to  live, 
—  once  we  found  out.  Such  was  the  meaning  of  Christ's 
Incarnation,  to  teach  us  how  to  live  in  order  that  we 
might  find  God  and  happiness.  And  Hodder  translated 
for  her  the  word  Incarnation. 

Now,  he  asked,  how  were  we  to  recognize  God,  how 
might  we  know  how  he  wished  us  to  live,  unless  we  saw 
him  in  human  beings,  in  the  souls  into  which  he  had 
entered  ?  In  Mr.  Bentley's  soul  ?  Was  this  too  deep  ? 

She  pondered,  with  flushed  face. 

"  I  never  had  it  put  to  me  like  that,"  she  said,  presently. 
"  I  never  could  have  known  what  you  meant  if  I  hadn't 
seen  Mr.  Bentley." 

Here  was  a  return  flash,  for  him.  Thus,  teaching  he 
taught.  From  this  germ  he  was  to  evolve  for  himself 
the  sublime  truth  that  the  world  grows  better,  not  through 
automatic,  soul-saving  machinery,  but  by  Personality. 

On  another  occasion  she  inquired  about  "  original  sin," 
a  phrase  which  had  stuck  in  her  memory  since  the  storm- 
ings  of  the  Madison  preacher.  Here  was  a  demand  to 
try  his  mettle. 

"  It  means,"  he  replied  after  a  moment,  "  that  we  are 
all  apt  to  follow  the  selfish,  animal  instincts  of  our 
natures,  to  get  all  we  can  for  ourselves  without  thinking 
of  others,  to  seek  animal  pleasures.  And  we  always 
suffer  for  it." 

44  Sure,"  she  agreed.     "  That's  what  happened  to  me." 

"  And  unless  we  see  and  know  some  one  like  Mr. 
Bentley,"  he  went  on,  choosing  his  words,  "  or  discover 
for  ourselves  what  Christ  was,  and  what  he  tried  to  tell 


RECONSTRUCTION  261 

us,  we  go  on  suffering,  because  we  don't  see  any  way  out. 
We  suffer  because  we  feel  that  we  are  useless,  that  other 
persons  are  doing  our  work." 

"  That's  what  hell  is !"  She  was  very  keen.  "Hell's 
here,"  she  repeated. 

"  Hell  may  begin  here,  and  so  may  heaven,"  he  answered. 

"Why,  Tie's  in  heaven  now!"  she  exclaimed,  "it's 
funny  I  never  thought  of  it  before."  Of  course  she  re 
ferred  to  Mr.  Bentley. 

Thus,  by  no  accountable  process  of  reasoning,  he 
stumbled  into  the  path  which  was  to  lead  him  to  one  of 
the  widest  and  brightest  of  his  vistas,  the  secret  of  eternity 
hidden  in  the  Parable  of  the  Talents!  But  it  will  not 
do  to  anticipate  this  matter.  .  .  . 

The  divine  in  this  woman  of  the  streets  regenerated 
by  the  divine  in  her  fellow-creatures,  was  gasping  like 
a  new-born  babe  for  breath.  And  with  what  anxiety 
they  watched  her!  She  grew  strong  again,  went  with 
Sally  Grover  and  the  other  girls  on  Sunday  excursions 
to  the  country,  applied  herself  to  her  embroidery  with 
restless  zeal  for  days,  only  to  have  it  drop  from  her  nerve 
less  fingers.  But  her  thoughts  were  uncontrollable,  she 
was  drawn  continually  to  the  edge  of  that  precipice  which 
hung  over  the  waters  whence  they  had  dragged  her,  never 
knowing  when  the  vertigo  would  seize  her.  And  once 
Sally  Grover,  on  the  alert  for  just  such  an  occurrence, 
pursued  her  down  Dalton  Street  and  forced  her  back.  .  .  . 

Justice  to  Miss  Grover  cannot  be  done  in  these  pages. 
It  was  she  who  bore  the  brunt  of  the  fierce  resentment  of 
the  reincarnated  fiends  when  the  other  women  shrank  back 
in  fear,  and  said  nothing  to  Mr.  Bentley  or  Hodder  until 
the  incident  was  past.  It  was  terrible  indeed  to  behold 
this  woman  revert  —  almost  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  — 
to  a  vicious  wretch  crazed  for  drink,  to  feel  that  the  strug 
gle  had  to  be  fought  all  over  again.  Unable  to  awe  Sally 
Grover' s  spirit,  she  would  grow  piteous. 

"For  God's  sake  let  me  go  —  I  can't  stand  it.  Let  me 
go  to  hell  —  that's  where  I  belong.  What  do  you  bother 
with  me  for?  I've  got  a  right."  .  .  . 


262  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

Once  the  doctor  had  to  be  called.  He  shook  his  head, 
but  his  eye  met  Miss  Grover's,  and  he  said  nothing. 

"I'll  never  be  able  to  pull  out,  I  haven't  got  the 
strength,"  she  told  Hodder,  between  sobs.  "  You  ought 
to  have  left  me  be,  that  was  where  I  belonged.  I  can't 
stand  it,  I  tell  you.  If  it  wasn't  for  that  woman  watch 
ing  me  downstairs,  and  Sally  Grover,  I'd  have  had  a 
drink  before  this.  It  ain't  any  use,  I've  got  so  I  can't 
live  without  it — I  don't  want  to  live." 

And  then  remorse,  self-reproach,  despair,  — almost  as 
terrible  to  contemplate.  She  swore  she  would  never 
see  Mr.  Bentley  again,  she  couldn't  face  him. 

Yet  they  persisted,  and  gained  ground.  She  did  see 
Mr.  Bentley,  but  what  he  said  to  her,  or  she  to  him,  will 
never  be  known.  She  didn't  speak  of  it.  ... 

Little  by  little  her  interest  was  aroused,  her  pride  in 
her  work  stimulated.  None  was  more  surprised  than 
Hodder  when  Sally  Grover  informed  him  that  the  em 
broidery  was  really  good ;  but  it  was  thought  best,  for 
psychological  reasons,  to  discard  the  old  table-cover  with 
its  associations  and  begin  a  new  one.  On  occasional  even 
ings  she  brought  her  sewing  over  to  Mr.  Bentley's, 
while  Sally  read  aloud  to  him  and  the  young  women  in  the 
library.  Miss  Grover's  taste  in  fiction  was  romantic; 
her  voice  (save  in  the  love  passages,  when  she  forgot  her 
self)  sing-song,  but  new  and  unsuspected  realms  were 
opened  up  for  Kate  Marcy,  who  would  drop  her  work  and 
gaze  wide-eyed  out  of  the  window,  into  the  darkness. 

And  it  was  Sally  who  must  be  given  credit  for  the  great 
experiment,  although  she  took  Mr.  Bentley  and  Hodder 
into  her  confidence.  On  it  they  staked  all.  The  day 
came,  at  last,  when  the  new  table-cover  was  finished. 
Miss  Grover  took  it  to  the  Woman's  Exchange,  actually 
sold  it,  and  brought  back  the  money  and  handed  it  to 
her  with  a  smile,  and  left  her  alone. 

An  hour  passed.  At  the  end  of  it  Kate  Marcy  came 
out  of  her  room,  crossed  the  street,  and  knocked  at  the 
door  of  Mr,  Bentley's  library.  Hodder  happened  to  be 
there, 


KECONSTRUCTION  263 

"  Come  in,"  Mr.  Bentley  said. 

She  entered,  breathless,  pale.  Her  eyes,  which  had  al 
ready  lost  much  of  the  dissipated  look,  were  alight  with 
exaltation.  Her  face  bore  evidence  of  the  severity  of  the 
hour  of  conflict,  and  she  was  perilously  near  to  tears. 
She  handed  Mr.  Bentley  the  money. 

"  What's  this,  Kate?  "  he  asked,  in  his  kindly  way. 

44  It's  what  I  earned,  sir,"  she  faltered.  "  Miss  Grover 
sold  the  table-cover.  I  thought  maybe  you'd  put  it  aside 
for  me,  like  you  do  for  the  others." 

44  I'll  take  good  care  of  it,"  he  said. 

44  Oh,  sir,  I  don't  ever  expect  to  repay  you,  and  Miss 
Grover  and  Mr.  Hodder " 

44  Why,  you  are  repaying  us,"  he  replied,  cutting  her 
short,  "you  are  making  us  all  very  happy.  And  Sally 
tells  me  at  the  Exchange  they  like  your  work  so  well  they 
are  asking  for  more.  I  shouldn't  have  suspected,"  he 
added,  with  a  humorous  glance  at  the  rector,  "that  Mr. 
Hodder  knew  so  much  about  embroidery." 

He  rose,  and  put  the  money  in  his  desk,  —  such  was 
his  genius  for  avoiding  situations  which  threatened  to  be 
come  emotional. 

44  I've  started  another  one,"  she  told  them,  as  she  de 
parted. 

A  few  moments  later  Miss  Grover  appeared. 

44  Sally,"  said  Mr.  Bentley,  "  you're  a  wise  woman.  I 
believe  I've  made  that  remark  before.  You  have  man 
aged  that  case  wonderfully." 

44  There  was  a  time,"  replied  Miss  Grover,  thoughtfully, 
44  when  it  looked  pretty  black.  We've  got  a  chance  with 
her  now,  I  think." 

44 1  hope  so.     I  begin  to  feel  so,"  Mr.  Bentley  declared. 

44 If  we  succeed,"  Miss  Grover  went  on,  "it  will  be 
through  the  heart.  And  if  we  lose  her  again,  it  will  be 
through  the  heart." 

Hodder  started  at  this  proof  of  insight. 

44  You  know  her  history,  Mr.  Hodder?  "  she  asked. 

44  Yes,"  he  said. 

44  Well,  I  don't.     And  I  don't  care  to.     But  the  way  *o 


264  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

get  at  Kate  Marcy,  light  as  she  is  in  some  respects,  is  through 
her  feelings.  And  she's  somehow  kept  'em  alive.  We've 
got  to  trust  her,  from  now  on  —  that's  the  only  way. 
And  that's  what  God  does,  anyhow." 

This  was  one  of  Miss  Grover's  rare  references  to  the 
Deity. 

Turning  over  that  phrase  in  his  mind,  Hodder  went 
slowly  back  towards  the  parish  house.  .God  trusted  in 
dividuals —  even  such  as  Kate  Marcy.  What  did  that 
mean?  Individual  responsibility!  He  repeated  it.  Was 
the  world  on  that  principle,  then?  It  was  as  though  a 
search-light  were  flung  ahead  of  him  and  he  saw,  dimly,  a 
new  order — -a  new  order  in  government  and  religion. 
And,  as  though  spoken  by  a  voice  out  of  the  past,  there 
sounded  in  his  ears  the  text  of  that  sermon  which  had  so 
deeply  moved  him,  "  I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father." 

The  church  was  still  open,  and  under  the  influence  of 
the  same  strange  excitement  which  had  driven  him  to 
walk  in  the  rain  so  long  ago,  he  entered  and  went  slowly 
up  the  marble  aisle.  Through  the  gathering  gloom  he 
saw  the  figure  on  the  cross.  And  as  he  stood  gazing  at  it, 
a  message  for  which  he  had  been  waiting  blazed  up  with 
in  him. 

He  would  not  leave  the  Church  I 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   KIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION 


IN  order  to  portray  this  crisis  in  the  life  of  Kate  Marcy, 
the  outcome  of  which  is  still  uncertain,  other  matters  have 
been  ignored. 

How  many  persons  besides  John  Hodder  have  seemed 
to  read  —  in  crucial  periods  —  a  meaning  into  incidents 
having  all  the  outward  appearance  of  accidents !  What 
is  it  that  leads  us  to  a  certain  man  or  woman  at  a  certain 
time,  or  to  open  a  certain  book?  Order  and  design?  or 
influence? 

The  night  when  he  had  stumbled  into  the  cafe  in  Dai- 
ton  Street  might  well  have  been  termed  the  nadir  of  Hod- 
der's  experience.  His  faith  had  been  blotted  out,  and 
with  it  had  suddenly  been  extinguished  all  spiritual  sense. 
The  beast  had  taken  possession.  And  then,  when  it  was 
least  expected,  —  nay,  when  despaired  of,  had  come  the 
glimmer  of  a  light;  distant,  yet  clear.  He  might  have 
traced  the  course  of  his  disillusionment,  perhaps,  but 
cause  and  effect  were  not  discernible  here. 

They  soon  became  so,  and  in  the  weeks  that  followed 
he  grew  to  have  the  odd  sense  of  a  guiding  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  —  such  was  his  instinctive  interpretation  of  it, 
rather  than  the  materialistic  one  of  things  ordained.  He 
might  turn,  in  obedience  to  what  seemed  a  whim,  either 
to  the  right  or  left,  only  to  recognize  new  blazes  that  led 
him  on  with  surer  step ;  and  trivial  accidents  became 
events  charged  with  meaning.  He  lived  in  continual 
wonder. 

One  broiling  morning,  for  instance,  he  gathered  up  the 
last  of  the  books  whose  contents  he  had  a  month  before 

265 


266  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

so  feverishly  absorbed,  and  which  had  purged  him  of  all 
fallacies.  At  first  he  had  welcomed  them  with  a  fierce 
relief,  sucked  them  dry,  then  looked  upon  them  with 
loathing.  Now  he  pressed  them  gratefully,  almost  ten 
derly,  as  he  made  his  way  along  the  shady  side  of  the 
street  towards  the  great  library  set  in  its  little  park, 
i  He  was  reminded,  as  he  passed  from  the  blinding  sun 
light  into  the  cool  entrance  hall,  with  its  polished  marble 
stairway  and  its  stauuary,  that  Eldon  Parr's  munificence 
had  made  the  building  possible  :  tfyat  some  day  Mr. 
Parr's  bust  would  stand  in  that  vestibule  with  that  of 
Judge  Henry  Goodrich  —  Philip  Goodrich's  grandfather 

—  and  of  other  men  who  had  served  their  city  and  their 
commonwealth.  j 

Upstairs,  at  the  desk,  he  was  handing  in  the  volumes 
to  the  young  woman  whose  duty  it  was  to  receive  th^m 
when  he  was  hailed  by  a  brisk  little  man  in  an  alpaca 
coat,  with  a  skin  like  brown  parchment.  /  -  : 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  exclaimed  cheerfully^'  with  a 
trace  of  German  accent,  "  I  had  an  idea  you  were  some 
where  on  the  cool  seas  with  our  friend,  Mr.  Parr.  He 
spoke,  before  he  left,  of  inviting  you." 

It  had  been  Eldon  Parr,  indeed,  who  had  first  brought 
Hodder  to  the  library,  shortly  after  the  rector's  advent, 
and  Mr.  Engel  had  accompanied  them  on  a  tour  of  in 
spection;  the  financier  himself  had  enjoined  the  librarian 
to  "  take  good  care  "  of  the  clergyman.  Mr.  Waring,  Mr. 
Atterbury,  and  Mr.  Constable  were  likewise  trustees. 
And  since  then,  when  talking  to  him,  Hodder  had  had  a 
feeling  that  Mr.  Engel  was  not  unconscious  of  the  aura 

—  if  it  may  be  called  such  —  of  his  vestry. 

Mr.  Engel  picked  up  one  of  the  books  as  it  lay  on  the 
counter,  and  as  he  read  the  title  his  face  betrayed  a  slight 
surprise. 

"  Modern  criticism  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  You  have  found  me  out,"  the  rector  acknowledged, 
smiling. 

"  Come  into  my  room,  and  have  a  chat,"  said  the  libra 
rian,  coaxingly. 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  267 

It  was  a  large  chamber  at  the  corner  of  the  building, 
shaded  by  awnings,  against  which  brushed  the  branches 
of  an  elm  which  had  belonged  to  the  original  park.  In 
the  centre  of  the  room  was  a  massive  oak  desk,  one  whole 
side  of  which  was  piled  high  with  new  volumes. 

"  Look  there,"  said  the  librarian,  with  a  quick  wave  of 
his  hand,  "  those  are  some  which  came  in  this  week,  and  I 
had  them  put  here  to  look  over.  Two-thirds  of  'em  on 
religion,  or  religious  philosophy.  Does  that  suggest  any 
thing  to  you  clergymen  ?  " 

"  Do  many  persons  read  them,  Mr,  Engel  ? "  said  the 
rector,  at  length. 

"  Read  them  !  "  cried  Mr.  Engel,  quizzically.  "  We 
librarians  are  a  sort  of  weather-vanes,  if  people  only  knew 
enough  to  consult  us.  We  can  hardly  get  a  sufficient 
number  of  these  new  religious  books  —  the  good  ones,  I 
mean  —  to  supply  the  demand.  And  the  Lord  knows 
what  trash  is  devoured,  from  what  the  booksellers  tell  me. 
It  reminds  me  of  the  days  when  this  library  was  down  on 
Fifth  Street,  years  ago,  and  we  couldn't  supply  enough 
Darwins  and  Huxleys  and  Spencers  and  popular  science 
generally.  That  was  an  agnostic  age.  But  now  you'd 
be  surprised  to  see  the  different  kinds  of  men  and  women 
who  come  demanding  books  on  religion  —  all  sorts  and 
conditions.  They're  beginning  to  miss  it  out  of  their 
lives ;  they  want  to  know.  If  my  opinion's  worth  any 
thing,  I  should  not  hesitate  to  declare  that  we're  on  the 
threshold  of  a  greater  religious  era  than  the  world  has 
ever  seen." 

Hodder  thrust  a  book  back  into  the  pile,  and  turned 
abruptly,  with  a  manner  that  surprised  the  librarian.  No 
other  clergyman  to  whom  he  had  spoken  on  this  subject 
had  given  evidence  of  this  strong  feeling,  and  the  rector 
of  St.  John's  was  the  last  man  from  whom  he  would  have 
expected  it. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  Hodder  demanded. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Engel,  when  he  had  recovered 
from  his  astonishment.  "I'm  sure  of  it.  I  think  clergy 
men  especially  —  if  you  will  pardon  me  —  are  apt  to  for- 


268  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

get  that  this  is  a  reading  age.  That  a  great  many  people 
who  used  to  get  what  instruction  they  had  —  ahem  — 
from  churches,  for  instance,  now  get  it  from  books.  I 
don't  want  to  say  anything  to  offend  you,  Mr.  Hodder  —  " 

"  You  couldn't,"  interrupted  the  rector.  He  was  equally 
surprised  at  the  discovery  that  he  had  misjudged  Mr. 
Engel,  and  was  drawn  towards  him  now  with  a  strong 
sympathy  and  curiosity. 

u  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Engel,  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say 
that."  He  restrained  a  gasp.  Was  this  the  orthodox 
Mr.  Hodder  of  St.  John's? 

"  Why,"  said  Hodder,  sitting  down,  "  I've  learned,  as 
you  have,  by  experience.  Only  my  experience  hasn't 
been  so  hopeful  as  yours — that  is,  if  you  regard  yours  as 
hopeful.  It  would  be  hypocritical  of  me  not  to  acknow 
ledge  that  the  churches  are  losing  ground,  and  that  those 
who  ought  to  be  connected  with  them  are  not.  I  am 
ready  to  admit  that  the  churches  are  at  fault.  But  what 
you  tell  me  of  people  reading  these  books  gives  me  more 
courage  than  I  have  had  for — for  some  time." 

"  Is  it  so  !  "  ejaculated  the  little  man,  relapsing  into  the 
German  idiom  of  his  youth. 

"  It  is,"  answered  the  rector,  with  an  emphasis  not  to  be 
denied.  "  I  wish  you  would  give  me  your  theory  about 
this  phenomenon,  and  speak  frankly." 

"  But  I  thought  —  "  the  bewildered  librarian  began.  "  I 
saw  you  had  been  reading  those  books,  but  I  thought  — 

"  Naturally  you  did,"  said  Hodder,  smiling.  His  per 
sonality,  his  ascendency,  his  poise,  suddenly  felt  by  the 
other,  were  still  more  confusing.  "  You  thought  me  a 
narrow,  complacent,  fashionable  priest  who  had  no  concern 
as  to  what  happened  outside  the  walls  of  his  church,  who 
stuck  obstinately  to  dogmas  and  would  give  nothing  else 
a  hearing.  Well,  you  were  right." 

"  Ah,  I  didn't  think  all  that,"  Mr.  Engel  protested,  and 
his  parchment  skin  actually  performed  the  miracle  of 
flushing.  "I  am  not  so  stupid.  And  once,  long  ago, 
when  I  was  young,  I  was  going  to  be  a  minister  myself." 

"  What  prevented  you  ?  "  asked  Hodder,  interested. 


THE   KIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  269 

You  want  me  to  be  frank  —  yes,  well,  I  couldn't  take 
The  brown  eyes  of  the  quiet,  humorous, 
self-contained  and  dried-up  custodian  of  the  city's  reading 
flamed  up.  "  I  felt  the  call,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  may 
not  credit  it  to  look  at  me  now,  Mr.  Hodder.  They  said 
to  me,  'here  is  what  you  must  swear  to  believe  before  you 
can  make  men  and  women  happier  and  more  hopeful, 
rescue  them  from  sin  and  misery ! '  You  know  what  it 
was." 

Hodder  nodded. 

"  It  was  a  crime.  It  had  nothing  to  do  with  religion. 
I  thought  it  over  for  a  year  —  I  couldn't.  Oh,  I  have 
since  been  thankful.  I  can  see  now  what  would  have 
happened  to  me  —  I  should  have  had  fatty  degeneration  of 
the  soul." 

The  expression  was  not  merely  forcible,  it  was  over 
whelming.  It  brought  up  before  Hodder's  mind,  with 
sickening  reality,  the  fate  he  had  himself  escaped.  Fatty 
degeneration  of  the  soul ! 

The  little  man,  seeing  the  expression  on  the  rector's 
face,  curbed  his  excitement,  and  feared  he  had  gone  too 
far. 

"  You  will  pardon  me  !  "  he  said  penitently,  "  I  forget 
myself.  I  did  not  mean  all  clergymen." 

"  I  have  never  heard  it  put  so  well,"  Hodder  declared. 
"That  is  exactly  what  occurs  in  many  cases." 

"  Yes,  it  is  that,"  said  Engel,  still  puzzled,  but  encour 
aged,  eyeing  the  strong  face  of  the  other.  "And  they 
lament  that  the  ministry  hasn't  more  big  men.  Some 
times  they  get  one  with  the  doctrinal  type  of  mind  —  a 
Newman  —  but  how  often?  And  even  a  Newman  would 
be  of  little  avail  to-day.  It  is  Eucken  who  says  that  the 
individual,  once  released  from  external  authority,  can 
never  be  turned  back  to  it.  And  they  have  been  released 
by  the  hundreds  of  thousands  ever  since  Luther's  time, 
are  being  freed  by  the  hundreds  of  thousands  to-day. 
Democracy,  learning,  science,  are  releasing  them,  and  no 
man,  no  matter  ho\v  great  he  may  be,  can  stem  that  tide. 
The  able  men  in  the  churches  now  —  like  your  Phillips 


270  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Brooks,  who  died  too  soon  —  are  beginning  to  see  this. 
They  are  those  who  developed  after  the  vows  of  the 
theological  schools  were  behind  them.  Remove  those 
vows,  and  you  will  see  the  young  men  come.  Young 
men  are  idealists,  Mr.  Hodder,  and  they  embrace  other 
professions  where  the  mind  is  free,  and  which  are  not  one 
whit  better  paid  than  the  ministry. 

"And  what  is  the  result,"  he  cried,  "of  the  senseless 
insistence  on  the  letter  instead  of  the  spirit  of  the  poetry 
of  religion?  Matthew  Arnold  was  a  thousand  times  right 
when  he  inferred  that  Jesus  Christ  never  spoke  literally  — 
and  yet  he  is  still  being  taken  literally  by  most  churches, 
and  all  the  literal  sayings  which  were  put  into  his  mouth 
are  maintained  as  Gospel  truth !  What  is  the  result  of 
proclaiming  Christianity  in  terms  of  an  ancient  science  and 
theology  which  awaken  no  quickening  response  in  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  to-day  ?  That!  "  The  librarian  thrust 
a  yellow  hand  towards  the  pile  of  books.  "  The  new  wine 
has  burst  the  old  skin  and  is  running  all  over  the  world. 
Ah,  my  friend,  if  you  could  only  see,  as  I  do,  the  yearning 
for  a  satisfying  religion  which  exists  in  this  big  city  ! 
It  is  like  a  vacuum,  and  those  books  are  rushing  to  supply 
it.  I  little  thought,"  he  added  dreamily,  "when  I  re 
nounced  the  ministry  in  so  much  sorrow  that  one  day  I 
should  have  a  church  of  my  own.  This  library  is  my 
church,  and  men  and  women  of  all  creeds  come  here  by 
the  thousands.  But  you  must  pardon  me.  I  have  been 
carried  away  —  I  forgot  myself." 

"  Mr.  Engel,"  replied  the  rector,  "  I  want  you  to  regard 
me  as  one  of  your  parishioners." 

The  librarian  looked  at  him  mutely,  and  the  practical, 
desiccated  little  person  seemed  startlingly  transformed  into 
a  mediaeval,  German  mystic. 

"  You  are  a  great  man,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said.  "  I 
might  have  guessed  it." 

It  was  one  of  the  moments  when  protest  would  have 
been  trite,  superfluous.  And  Hodder,  in  truth,  felt  some 
thing  great  swelling  within  him,  something  that  was  not 
himself,  and  yet  strangely  was.  But  just  what  —  in  view 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  271 

of  his  past  strict  orthodoxy  and  limited  congregation  — 
Mr.  Engel  meant,  he  could  not  have  said.  Had  the 
librarian  recognized,  without  confession  on  his  part,  the 
change  in  him  ?  divined  his  future  intentions  ? 

"  It  is  curious  that  I  should  have  met  you  this  morning, 
Mr.  Engel,"  he  said.  "  I  expressed  surprise  when  you 
declared  this  was  a  religious  age,  because  you  corroborated 
something  I  had  felt,  but  of  which  I  had  no  sufficient 
proof.  I  felt  that  a  great  body  of  unsatisfied  men  and 
women  existed,  but  that  I  was  powerless  to  get  in  touch 
with  them ;  I  had  discovered  that  truth,  as  you.  have  so 
ably  pointed  out,  is  disguised  and  distorted  by  ancient 
dogmas  ;  and  that  the  old  Authority,  as  you  say,  no  longer 
carries  weight." 

"  Have  you  found  the  new  one?  "  Mr.  Engel  demanded. 

"  I  think  I  have,"  the  rector  answered  calmly,  "  it  lies  in 
personality.  I  do  not  know  whether  you  will  agree  with 
me  that  the  Church  at  large  has  a  future,  and  I  will  con 
fess  to  you  that  there  was  a  time  when  I  thought  she  had 
not.  I  see  now  that  she  has,  once  given  to  her  ministers 
that  freedom  to  develop  of  which  you  speak.  In  spite  of 
the  fact  that  truth  has  gradually  been  revealed  to  the 
world  by  what  may  be  called  an  Apostolic  Succession  of 
Personalities,  —  Augustine,  Dante,  Francis  of  Assisi, 
Luther,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  our  own  Lincoln  and 
Phillips  Brooks,  —  to  mention  only  a  few, — the  Church 
as  a  whole  has  been  blind  to  it.  She  has  insisted  upon 
putting  the  individual  in  a  strait-jacket,  she  has  never 
recognized  that  growth  is  the  secret  of  life,  that  the 
clothes  of  one  man  are  binding  on  another." 

uAh,  you  are  right  —  a  thousand  times  right,"  cried 
the  librarian.  "  You  have  read  Royce,  perhaps,  when  he 
says,  '  This  mortal  shall  put  on  individuality.' ' 

"No,"  said  the  rector,  outwardly  cool,  but  inwardly 
excited  by  the  coruscation  of  this  magnificent  paraphrase 
of  Paul's  sentence,  by  the  extraordinary  turn  the  conver 
sation  had  taken.  "  I  am  ashamed  to  own  that  I  have 
not  followed  the  development  of  modern  philosophy.  The 
books  I  have  just  returned,  on  historical  criticism,"  he 


272  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

went  on,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  infer  what  my  atti 
tude  has  been  toward  modern  thought.  We  were  made 
acquainted  with  historical  criticism  in  the  theological  sem 
inary,  but  we  were  also  taught  to  discount  it.  1  have  dis 
counted  it,  refrained  from  reading  it,  —  until  now.  And 
yet  I  have  heard  it  discussed  in  conferences,  glanced  over 
articles  in  the  reviews.  I  had,  you  see,  closed  the  door 
of  my  mind.  I  was  in  a  state  where  arguments  make  no 
impression." 

The  librarian  made  a  gesture  of  sympathetic  assent, 
which  was  also  a  tribute  to  the  clergyman's  frankness. 

"  You  will  perhaps  wonder  how  I  could  have  lived  these 
years  in  an  atmosphere  of  modern  thought  and  have  re 
mained  uninfluenced.  Well,  I  have  recently  been  won 
dering  —  myself."  Hodder  smiled.  "  The  name  of  Royce 
is  by  no  means  unfamiliar  to  me,  and  he  taught  at  Har 
vard  when  I  was  an  undergraduate.  But  the  prevailing 
philosophy  of  that  day  among  the  students  was  naturalism. 
I  represent  a  revolt  from  it.  At  the  seminary  I  imbibed 
a  certain  amount  of  religious  philosophy  —  but  I  did  not 
continue  it,  as  thousands  of  my  more  liberal  fellow-cler 
gymen  have  done.  My  religion  'worked' -— during  the 
time,  at  least,  I  remained  in  my  first  parish.  I  had 
no  interest  in  reconciling,  for  instance,  the  doctrine  of 
evolution  with  the  argument  for  design.  Since  I  have 
been  here  in  this  city,"  he  added,  simply,  "  my  days  have 
been  filled  with  a  continued  perplexity  —  when  I  was  not 
too  busy  to  think.  Yes,  there  was  an  unacknowledged 
element  of  fear  in  my  attitude,  though  I  comforted  myself 
with  the  notion  that  opinions,  philosophical  and  scientific, 
were  in  a  state  of  flux." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Engel,  "I  comprehend.  But, 
from  the  manner  in  which  you  spoke  just  now,  I  should 
have  inferred  that  you  have  been  reading  modern  phi 
losophy —  that  of  the  last  twenty  years.  Ah,  you  have 
something  before  you,  Mr.  Hodder.  You  will  thank  God, 
with  me,  for  that  philosophy.  It  has  turned  the  tide,  set 
the  current  running  the  other  way.  Philosophy  is  no 
longer  against  religion,  it  is  with  it.  And  if  you  were  to 

sfl>>^ 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  273 

ask  me  to  name  one  of  the  greatest  religious  teachers  of 
our  age,  I  should  answer,  William  James.  And  there  is 
Royce,  of  whom  I  spoke,  —  one  of  our  biggest  men.  The 
dominant  philosophies  of  our  times  have  grown  up  since 
Arnold  wrote  his  'Literature  and  Dogma,'  and  they  are 
in  harmony  with  the  quickening  social  spirit  of  the  age, 
which  is  a  religious  spirit  —  a  Christian  spirit,  I  call  it. 
Christianity  is  coming  to  its  own.  These  philosophies, 
which  are  not  so  far  apart,  are  the  flower  of  the  thought 
of  the  centuries,  of  modern  science,  of  that  most  extraor 
dinary  of  discoveries,  modern  psychology.  And  they 
are  far  from  excluding  religion,  from  denying  the  essen 
tial  of  Christ's  teachings.  On  the  other  hand,  they  grant 
that  the  motive-power  of  the  world  is  spiritual. 

"And  this,"  continued  Mr.  Engel,  "brings  me  to 
another  aspect  of  authority.  I  wonder  if  it  has  struck 
you?  In  mediaeval  times,  when  a  bishop  spoke  ex 
cathedra,  his  authority,  so  far  as  it  carried  weight,  came 
from  two  sources.  First,  the  supposed  divine  charter  of 
the  Church  to  save  and  damn.  That  authority  is  being 
rapidly  swept  away.  Second,  he  spoke  with  all  the 
weight  of  the  then  accepted  science  and  philosophy.  But 
as  soon  as  the  new  science  began  to  lay  hold  on  people's 
minds,  as  —  for  instance  —  when  Galileo  discovered  that 
the  earth  moved  instead  of  the  sun  (and  the  pope  made 
him  take  it  back),  that  second  authority  began  to  crum 
ble  too.  In  the  nineteenth  century  science  had  grown 
so  strong  that  the  situation  looked  hopeless.  Religion 
had  apparently  irrevocably  lost  that  warrant  also,  and 
thinking  men  not  spiritually  inclined,  since  they  had  to 
make  a  choice  between  science  and  religion,  took  science 
as  being  the  more  honest,  the  more  certain. 

"  And  now  what  has  happened  ?  The  new  philoso 
phies  have  restored  your  second  Authority,  and  your  first, 
as  you  properly  say,  is  replaced  by  the  conception  of  Per 
sonality.  Personality  is  nothing  but  the  rehabilitation  of 
the  prophet,  the  seer.  Get  him,  as  Hatch  says,  back  into 
your  Church.  The  priests  with  their  sacrifices  and  auto 
matic  rites,  the  logicians,  have  crowded  him  out.  Why 


274  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

do  we  read  the  Old  Testament  at  all?  Not  for  the  laws 
of  the  Levites,  not  for  the  battles  and  hangings,  but  for 
the  inspiration  of  the  prophets.  The  authority  of  the 
prophet  comes  through  personality,  the  source  of  which 
is  in  what  Myers  calls  the  infinite  spiritual  world  —  in 
God.  It  was  Christ's  own  authority. 

"  And  as  for  your  other  authority,  your  ordinary  man, 
when  he  reads  modern  philosophy,  says  to  himself,  '  this 
does  not  conflict  with  science!'  But  he  gets  no  hint, 
when  he  goes  to  most  churches,  that  there  is,  between  the 
two,  no  real  quarrel,  and  he  turns  away  in  despair.  He 
may  accept  the  pragmatism  of  James,  the  idealism  of 
Royce,  or  even  what  is  called  neo  realism.  In  any  case, 
he  gains  the  conviction  that  a  force  for  good  is  at  work  in 
the  world,  and  he  has  the  incentive  to  become  part  of  it. 
.  .  .  But  I  have  given  you  a  sermon  !  " 

"  For  which  I  can  never  be  sufficiently  grateful,"  said 
Hodder,  with  an  earnestness  not  to  be  mistaken. 

The  little  man's  eyes  rested  admiringly,  and  not  with 
out  emotion,  on  the  salient  features  of  the  tall  clergyman. 
And  when  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  fact  that  he  had  read  Hodder's  purpose. 

"  You  will  have  opposition,  my  friend.  They  will  fight 
you  —  some  persons  we  know.  They  do  not  wish  —  what 
you  and  I  desire.  But  you  will  not  surrender  —  I  know 
it."  .  .  .  Mr.  Engel  broke  off  abruptly,  and  rang  a  bell 
on  his  desk.  "  I  will  make  out  for  you  a  list.  I  hope 
you  may  come  in  again,  often.  We  shall  have  other 
talks,  —  yes?  I  am  always  here." 

Then  it  came  to  pass  that  Hodder  carried  back  with 
him  another  armful  of  books.  Those  he  had  brought 
back  were  the  Levellers  of  the  False.  These  were  the 
Builders  of  the  True, 


Hodder  had  known  for  many  years  that  the  writings  of 
Josiah  Royce  and  of  William  James  had  "  been  in  the  air," 
so  to  speak,  and  he  had  heard  them  mentioned  at  dinner 


THE  KIDDLE  OF  CAUSATION  275 

parties  by  his  more  intellectual  parishioners,  such  as  Mrs. 
Constable  and  Martha  Preston.  Now  he  was  able  to  smile 
at  his  former  attitude  toward  these  moderns,  whose  peru 
sal  he  had  deprecated  as  treason  to  the  saints !  And  he 
remembered  his  horror  on  having  listened  to  a  fellow- 
clergyman  discuss  with  calmness  the  plan  of  the  "  Vari 
eties  of  Religious  Experiences."  A  sacrilegious  dissection 
of  the  lives  of  these  very  saints !  The  scientific  process, 
the  theories  of  modern  psychology  applied  with  sang  froid 
to  the  workings  of  God  in  the  human  soul !  Science  he 
had  regarded  as  the  proclaimed  enemy  of  religion,  and  in 
these  days  of  the  apotheosis  of  science  not  even  sacred 
things  were  spared. 

Now  Hodder  saw  what  the  little  librarian  had  meant 
by  an  authority  restored.  The  impartial  method  of  mod 
ern  science  had  become  so  firmly  established  in  the  mind 
of  mankind  by  education  and  reading  that  the  ancient  un 
scientific  science  of  the  Roman  Empire,  in  which  orthodox 
Christianity  was  clothed,  no  longer  carried  authority.  In 
so  far  as  modern  science  had  discovered  truth,  religion 
had  no  quarrel  with  it.  And  if  theology  pretended  to  be 
the  science  of  religion,  surely  it  must  submit  to  the  test 
of  the  new  science  !  The  dogged  clinging  to  the  archaic 
speculations  of  apologists,  saints,  and  schoolmen  had 
brought  religion  to  a  low  ebb  indeed. 

One  of  the  most  inspiring  books  he  read  was  by  an 
English  clergyman  of  his  own  Church  whom  he  had 
formerly  looked  upon  as  a  heretic,  with  all  that  the 
word  had  once  implied.  It  was  a  frank  yet  reverent 
study  of  the  self-consciousness  of  Christ,  submitting 
the  life  and  teachings  of  Jesus  to  modern  criticism 
and  the  scientific  method.  And  the  Saviour's  divinity, 
rather  than  being  lessened,  was  augmented.  Hodder 
found  it  infinitely  refreshing  that  the  so-called  articles 
of  Christian  belief,  instead  of  being  put  first  and  their 
acceptance  insisted  upon,  were  made  the  climax  of  the 
investigation. 

Religion,  he  began  to  perceive,  was  an  undertaking,  an 
attempt  to  find  unity  and  harmony  of  the  soul  by  adopt- 


276  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

ing,  after  mature  thought,  a  definite  principle  in  life.  If 
harmony  resulted,  —  if  the  principle  worked,  it  was  true. 
Hodder  kept  an  open  mind,  but  he  became  a  pragmatist 
so  far.  Science,  on  the  other  hand,  was  in  a  sphere  by 
herself,  and  need  have  no  conflict  with  religion  ;  science 
was  not  an  undertaking,  but  an  impartial  investigation  by 
close  observation  of  facts  in  nature.  Her  object  was  to 
discover  truths  by  these  methods  alone.  She  had  her 
theories,  indeed,  but  they  must  be  submitted  to  rigorous 
tests.  This  from  a  book  by  Professor  Perry,  an  advocate 
of  the  new  realism. 

On  the  other  hand  there  were  signs  that  modern 
science,  by  infinitesimal  degrees,  might  be  aiding  in  the 
solution  of  the  Mystery.  .  .  . 

But  religion,  Hodder  saw,  was  trusting.  Not  credulous, 
silly  trusting,  but  thoughtful  trusting,  accepting  such 
facts  as  were  definitely  known.  Faith  was  trusting. 
And  faith  without  works  was  dead  simply  because  there 
could  be  no  faith  without  works.  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  belief  that  did  not  result  in  act. 

A  paragraph  which  made  a  profound  impression  on 
Hodder  at  that  time  occurs  in  James's  essay,  "Is  life 
worth  living  ?  " 

"Now  —  what  do  I  mean  by  'trusting'?  Is  the  word 
to  carry  with  it  license  to  define  in  detail  an  invisible 
world,  and  to  authorize  and  excommunicate  those  whose 
trust  is  different  ?  .  .  .  Our  faculties  of  belief  were  not 
given  us  to  make  orthodoxies  and  heresies  withal ;  they 
were  given  us  to  live  ly.  And  to  trust  our  religions  de 
mands  men  first  of  all  to  live  in  the  light  of  them,  and  to 
ct  as  if  the  invisible  world  which  they  suggest  were  real. 
It  is  a  fact  of  human  nature  that  man  can  live  and  die  by 
the  help  of  a  sort  of  faith  that  goes  without  a  single  dogma 
and  definition." 

Yet  it  was  not  these  religious  philosophies  which  had 
saved  him,  though  the  stimulus  of  their  current  had  started 
his  mind  revolving  like  a  motor.  Their  function,  he 
perceived  now,  was  precisely  to  compel  him  to  see  what 
had  saved  him,  to  reenforce  it  with  the  intellect,  with  the 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  277 

reason,  and  enable  him  to  save  others.  The  current  set  up, 
—  by  a  thousand  suggestions  of  which  he  made  notes,  —  a 
personal  construction,  coordination,  and  he  had  the  exhila 
ration  of  feeling,  within  him,  a  creative  process  all  his 
own.  Behold  a  mystery!  a  paradox! — one  of  many. 
As  his  strength  grew  greater  day  by  day,  as  his  vision 
grew  clearer,  he  must  exclaim  with  Paul  :  "  Yet  not  I, 
but  the  grace  of  God  which  was  with  me  !  " 

He,  Hodder,  was  but  an  instrument  transmitting  power. 
And  yet  —  oh  paradox!  —  the  instrument  continued  to 
improve,  to  grow  stronger,  to  develop  individuality  and 
personality  day  by  day  !  Life,  present  and  hereafter,  was 
growth,  development,  the  opportunity  for  service  in  a 
Cause.  To  cease  growing  was  to  die. 

He  perceived  at  last  the  form  all  religion  takes  is  that 
of  consecration  to  a  Cause,  —  one  of  God's  many  causes. 
The  meaning  of  life  is  to  find  one's  Cause,  to  lose  one's 
self  in  it.  His  was  the  liberation  of  the  Word,  —  now 
vouchsafed  to  him ;  the  freeing  of  the  spark  from  under 
the  ashes.  The  phrase  was  Alison's.  To  help  liberate 
the  Church,  fan  into  flame  the  fire  which  was  to  con 
sume  the  injustice,  the  tyranny,  the  selfishness  of  the 
world,  until  the  Garvins,  the  Kate  Marcys,  the  stunted 
children,  and  anaemic  women  were  no  longer  possible. 

It  was  Royce  who,  in  one  illuminating  sentence,  solved 
for  him  the  puzzle,  pointed  out  whence  his  salvation  had 
come.  "  For  your  cause  can  only  le  revealed  to  you  through 
some  presence  that  first  teaches  you  to  love  the  unity  of  the 
spiritual  life.  .  .  .  You  must  find  it  in  human  shape." 

Horace  Bentley  ! 

He,  Hodder,  had  known  this,  but  known  it  vaguely, 
without  sanction.  The  light  had  shone  for  him  even  in 
the  darkness  of  that  night  in  Dalton  Street,  when  he 
thought  to  have  lost  it  forever.  And  he  had  awakened 
the  next  morning,  safe,  —  safe  yet  bewildered,  like  a  half 
drowned  man  on  warm  sands  in  the  sun. 

"The  will  of  the  spiritual  world,  the  divine  will, 
revealed  in  man."  What  sublime  thoughts,  as  old  as  the 
Cross  itself,  yet  continually  and  eternally  new  ! 


278  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 


m 

There  was  still  another  whose  face  was  constantly 
before  him,  and  the  reflection  of  her  distressed  yet  un 
daunted  soul,  —  Alison  Parr.  The  contemplation  of  her 
courage,  of  her  determination  to  abide  by  nothing  save 
the  truth,  had  had  a  power  over  him  that  he  might  not 
estimate,  and  he  loved  her  as  a  man  loves  a  woman,  for 
her  imperfections.  And  he  loved  her  body  and  her  mind. 

One  morning,  as  he  walked  back  from  Mrs.  Bledsoe's 
through  an  unfrequented,  wooded  path  of  the  Park,  he 
beheld  her  as  he  had  summoned  her  in  his  visions.  She 
was  sitting  motionless,  gazing  before  her  with  clear  eyes, 
as  at  the  Fates.  .  .  . 

She  started  on  suddenly  perceiving  him,  but  it  was 
characteristic  of  her  greeting  that  she  seemed  to  feel  no 
surprise  at  the  accident  which  had  brought  them  together. 

"I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  that  I  have  broken  in 
on  some  profound  reflections." 

She  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  looked  up  at  him,  as  he 
stood  over  her,  with  one  of  her  strange,  baffling  gazes,  in 
which  there  was  the  hint  of  a  welcoming  smile. 

"  Reflection  seems  to  be  a  circular  process  with  me," 
she  answered.  "  I  never  get  anywhere  —  like  you." 

"  Like  me ! "  he  exclaimed,  seating  himself  on  the 
bench.  Apparently  their  intercourse,  so  long  as  it  should 
continue,  was  destined  to  be  on  the  basis  of  intimacy  in 
which  it  had  begun.  It  was  possible  at  once  to  be  aware 
of  her  disturbing  presence,  and  yet  to  feel  at  home  in  it. 

"  Like  you,  yes,"  she  said,  continuing  to  examine  him. 
"  You've  changed  remarkably." 

In  his  agitation  at  this  discovery  of  hers  he  again 
repeated  her  words. 

"  Why,  you  seem  happier,  you  look  happier.  It  isn't 
only  that,  I  can't  explain  how  you  impress  me.  It  struck 
me  when  you  were  talking  to  Mr.  Bentley  the  other  day. 
You  seem  to  see  something  you  didn't  see  when  I  first  met 
you,  that  you  didn't  see  the  first  time  we  were  at  Mr. 


THE   KIDDLE   OP   CAUSATION  279 

Bentley's  together.  Your  attitude  is  fixed  —  directed. 
You  have  made  a  decision  of  some  sort  —  a  momentous 
one,  I  rather  think." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  you  are  right.  It's  more  than 
remarkable  that  you  should  have  guessed  it." 

She  remained  silent. 

"I  have  decided,"  he  found  himself  saying  abruptly, 
"to  continue  in  the  Church." 

Still  she  was  silent,  until  he  wondered  whether  she 
would  answer  him.  He  had  often  speculated  to  himself 
how  she  would  take  this  decision,  but  he  could  make  no 
surmise  from  her  expression  as  she  stared  off  into  the 
wood.  Presently  she  turned  her  head,  slowly,  and  looked 
into  his  face.  Still  she  did  not  speak. 

"  You  are  wondering  how  I  can  do  it,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  acknowledged,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I  should  like  you  to  know  —  that  is  why  I  spoke  of  it. 
You  have  never  asked  me,  and  I  have  never  told  you  that 
the  convictions  I  formerly  held  I  lost.  And  with  them, 
for  a  while,  went  everything.  At  least  so  I  believed." 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  answered,  "  I  could  see  that,  too." 

"  When  I  argued  with  you,  that  afternoon,  —  the  last 
time  we  talked  together  alone,  —  I  was  trying  to  convince 
n^self,  and  you  — "  he  hesitated,  "  —  that  there  was 
something.  The  fact  that  you  could  not  seem  to  feel  it 
stimulated  me." 

He  read  in  her  eyes  that  she  understood  him.  And  he 
dared  not,  nor  did  he  need  to  emphasize  further  his  own 
intense  desire  that  she  should  find  a  solution  of  her  own. 

"  I  wish  you  to  know  what  I  am  telling  you  for  two 
reasons,"  he  went  on.  "  It  was  you  who  spoke  the  words 
that  led  to  the  opening  of  my  eyes  to  the  situation  into 
which  I  had  been  drifting  for  two  years,  who  compelled 
me  to  look  upon  the  inconsistencies  and  falsities  which  had 
gradually  been  borne  in  upon  me.  It  was  you,  I  think, 
who  gave  me  the  courage  to  face  this  situation  squarely, 
since  you  possess  that  kind  of  courage  yourself." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  cried.  "  You  would  have  done  it  any 
way." 


280  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

He  paused  a  moment,  to  get  himself  in  hand. 

"  For  this  reason,  I  owed  it  to  you  to  speak  —  to  thank 
you.  I  have  realized,  since  that  first  meeting,  that  you 
became  my  friend  then,  and  that  you  spoke  as  a  friend. 
If  you  had  not  believed  in  my  sincerity,  you  would  not 
have  spoken.  I  wish  you  to  know  that  I  am  fully  aware 
and  grateful  for  the  honour  you  did  me,  and  that  I 
realize  it  is  not  always  easy  for  you  to  speak  so  —  to 
any  one." 

She  did  not  reply. 

"  There  is  another  reason  for  my  telling  you  now  of 
this  decision  of  mine  to  remain  a  clergyman,"  he  continued. 
"  It  is  because  I  value  your  respect  and  friendship,  and  I 
hope  you  will  believe  that  I  would  not  take  this  course 
unless  I  saw  my  way  clear  to  do  it  with  sincerity." 

"  One  has  only  to  look  at  you  to  see  that  you  are 
sincere,"  she  said  gently,  with  a  thrill  in  her  voice  that 
almost  unmanned  him.  "  I  told  you  once  that  I  should 
never  have  forgiven  myself  if  I  had  wrecked  your  life. 
I  meant  it.  I  am  very  glad." 

It  was  his  turn  to  be  silent. 

"Just  because  /cannot  see  how  it  would  be  possible  to 
remain  in  the  Church  after  one  had  been  —  emancipated, 
so  to  speak," — she  smiled  at  him,  —  "is  no  reason  why 
you  may  not  have  solved  the  problem." 

Such  was  the  superfine  quality  of  her  honesty.  Yet 
she  trusted  him!  He  was  made  giddy  by  a  desire,  which 
he  fought  down,  to  justify  himself  before  her.  His  eye 
beheld  her  now  as  the  goddess  with  the  scales  in  her 
hand,  weighing  and  accepting  with  outward  calm  the 
verdict  of  the  balance.  .  .  .  Outward  calm,  but  inner  fire. 

"  It  makes  no  difference,"  she  pursued  evenly,  bent  on 
choosing  her  words,  "  that  I  cannot  personally  understand 
your  emancipation,  that  mine  is  different.  I  can  only  see 
the  preponderance  of  evil,  of  deception,  of  injustice  —  it 
is  that  which  shuts  out  everything  else.  And  it's  temper 
amental,  I  suppose.  By  looking  at  you,  as  I  told  you,  I 
can  see  that  your  emancipation  is  positive,  while  mine 
remains  negative.  You  have  somehow  regained  a  convic- 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  281 

tion  that  the  good  is  predominant,  that  there  is  some 
purpose  in  the  universe." 

He  assented.  Once  more  she  relapsed  into  thought, 
while  he  sat  contemplating  her  profile.  She  turned  to 
him  again  with  a  tremulous  smile. 

"But  isn't  a  conviction  that  the  good  is  predominant, 
that  there  is  a  purpose  in  the  universe,  a  long  way  from 
the  positive  assertions  in  the  Creeds  ? "  she  asked.  "  I 
remember,  when  I  went  through  what  you  would  probably 
call  disintegration,  and  which  seemed  to  me  enlighten 
ment,  that  the  Creeds  were  my  first  stumbling-blocks.  It 
seemed  wrong  to  repeat  them." 

"  I  am  glad  you  spoke  of  this,"  he  replied  gravely.  "  I 
have  arrived  at  many  answers  to  that  difficulty  —  which 
did  not  give  me  the  trouble  I  had  anticipated.  In  the 
first  place,  I  am  convinced  that  it  was  much  more  of  a 
difficulty  ten,  twenty,  thirty  years  ago  than  it  is  to-day. 
That  which  I  formerly  thought  was  a  radical  tendency 
towards  atrophy,  the  drift  of  the  liberal  party  in  my  own 
Church  and  others,  as  well  as  that  which  I  looked  upon 
with  some  abhorrence  as  the  free-thinking  speculation  of 
many  modern  writers,  I  have  now  come  to  see  is  recon 
struction.  The  results  of  this  teaching  of  religion  in 
modern  terms  are  already  becoming  apparent,  and  some 
persons  are  already  beginning  to  see  that  the  Creeds 
express  certain  elemental  truths  in  frankly  archaic  lan 
guage.  All  this  should  be  explained  in  the  churches  and 
the  Sunday 'schools,  —  is,  in  fact,  being  explained  in  some, 
and  also  in  books  for  popular  reading  by  clergymen  of  my 
own  Church,  both  here  and  in  England.  We  have  got 
past  the  critical  age." 

She  followed  him  closely,  but  did  not  interrupt. 

"I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  Creeds  are  not  the 
sources  of  much  misunderstanding,  but  in  my  opinion 
they  do  not  constitute  a  sufficient  excuse  for  any  clergy 
man  to  abandon  his  Church  on  account  of  them.  Indeed 
there  are  many  who  interpret  them  by  modern  thought  — 
which  is  closer  to  the  teachings  of  Christ  than  ancient 
thought  —  whose  honesty  cannot  be  questioned.  Person- 


THE  INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

ally,  I  think  that  the  Creeds  either  ought  to  be  taken  out 
of  the  service,  or  changed,  or  else  there  should  be  a  note 
inserted  in  the  service  and  catechism  definitely  permitting 
a  liberal  interpretation  —  which  is  exactly  what  so  many 
clergymen,  candidly,  do  now. 

"  When  I  was  ordained  a  deacon,  and  then  a  priest,  I 
took  vows  which  would  appear  to  be  literally  conflicting. 
Compelled  to  choose  between  these  vows,  I  accept  that  as 
supreme  which  I  made  when  I  affirmed  that  I  would  teach 
nothing  which  I  should  be  persuaded  might  not  be  con 
cluded  and  affirmed  by  the  Scripture.  The  Creeds  were 
derived  from  the  Scripture  —  not  the  Scripture  from  the 
Creeds.  As  an  individual  among  a  body  of  Christians  I 
am  powerless  to  change  either  the  ordinal  vows  or  the 
Creeds,  I  am  obliged  to  wait  for  the  consensus  of  opinion. 
But  if,  on  the  whole,  I  can  satisfy  my  conscience  in  repeat 
ing  the  Creeds  and  reading  the  service,  as  other  honest 
men  are  doing  —  if  I  am  convinced  that  I  have  an  obvious 
work  to  do  in  that  Church,  it  would  be  cowardly  for  me 
to  abandon  that  work." 

Her  eyes  lighted  up. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  "  by  staying  in  you 
can  do  many  things  that  you  could  not  do,  you  can  help 
to  bring  about  the  change,  by  being  frank.  That  is  your 
point  of  view.  You  believe  in  the  future  of  the  Church." 

"  I  believe  in  an  universal,  Christian  organization,"  he 
replied. 

"  But  while  stronger  men  are  honest,"  she  objected, 
"  are  not  your  ancient  vows  and  ancient  Creeds  continu 
ally  making  weaker  men  casuists  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  agreed  vigorously,  and  thought 
involuntarily  of  Mr.  Engel's  phrase,  fatty  degeneration  of 
the  soul.  "  Yet  I  can  see  the  signs,  on  all  sides,  of  a 
gradual  emancipation,  of  which  I  might  be  deemed  an 
example."  A  smile  came  into  his  eyes,  like  the  sun  on  a 
grey-green  sea. 

"  Oh,  you  could  never  be  a  casuist !  "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  touch  of  vehemence.  "  You  are  much  too  posi 
tive.  It  is  just  that  note,  which  is  characteristic  of  so 


THE   KIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  283 

many  clergymen,  that  note  of  smoothing-over  and  apol 
ogy,  which  you  lack.  I  could  never  feel  it,  even  when 

you  were  orthodox.  And  now "  words  failed  her  as 

she  inspected  his  ruggedness. 

"  And  now,"  he  took  her  up,  to  cover  his  emotion,  "  now 
I  am  not  to  be  classified  !  " 

Still  examining  him,  she  reflected  on  this. 

"  Classified  ?  "  Isn't  it  because  you're  so  much  of  an 
individual  that  one  fails  to  classify  you  ?  You  represent 
something  new  to  my  experience,  something  which  seems 
almost  a  contradiction  —  an  emancipated  Church." 

"  You  imagined  me  out  of  the  Church,  — but  where  ?  " 
he  demanded. 

44  That's  just  it,"  she  wondered  intimately,  "  where  ? 
When  I  try,  I  can  see  no  other  place  for  you.  Your  place 
is  in  the  pulpit." 

He  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation,  which  she  did  not  heed. 

"  I  can't  imagine  you  doing  institutional  work,  as  it  is 
called,  —  you're  not  fitted  for  it,  you'd  be  wasted  in  it. 
You  gain  by  the  historic  setting  of  the  Church,  and  yet  it 
does  not  absorb  you.  Free  to  preach  your  convictions, 
unfettered,  you  will  have  a  power  over  people  that  will  be 
tremendous.  You  have  a  very  strong  personality." 

She  set  his  heart,  his  mind,  to  leaping  by  this  unex 
pected  confirmation  on  her  part  of  his  hopes,  and  yet  the 
man  in  him  was  intent  upon  the  woman.  She  had  now 
the  air  of  detached  judgment,  while  he  could  not  refrain 
from  speculating  anxiously  on  the  effect  of  his  future 
course  on  her  and  on  their  intimate  relationship.  He  for 
bore  from  thinking,  now,  of  the  looming  events  which 
might  thrust  them  apart,  —  put  a  physical  distance  be 
tween  them,  —  his  anxiety  was  concerned  with  the  possi 
ble  snapping  of  the  thread  of  sympathy  which  had  bound 
them.  In  this  respect,  he  dreaded  her  own  future  as 
much  as  his  own.  What  might  she  do  ?  For  he  felt,  in 
her,  a  potential  element  of  desperation  ;  a  capacity  to  com 
mit,  at  any  moment,  an  irretrievable  act. 

"  Once  you  have  made  your  ideas  your  own,"  she  mused, 
"you  will  have  the  power  of  convincing  people." 


284  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  And  yet  —  " 

"And  yet"  —  she  seized  his  unfinished  sentence,  "you 
are  not  at  all  positive  of  convincing  me.  I'll  give  you  the 
credit  of  forbearing  to  make  proselytes."  She  smiled  at 
him. 

Thus  she  read  him  again. 

"  If  you  call  making  proselytes  a  desire  to  communicate 
a  view  of  life  which  gives  satisfaction  — "  he  began,  in 
his  serious  way. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  be  convinced  !  "  she  exclaimed,  peni 
tently,  "  I'd  give  anything  to  feel  as  you  feel.  There's 
something  lacking  in  me,  there  must  be,  and  I  have  only 
seen  the  disillusionizing  side.  You  infer  that  the  issue  of 
the  Creeds  will  crumble,  —  preach  the  new,  and  the  old  will 
fall  away  of  itself.  But  what  is  the  new  ?  How,  practi 
cally,  do  you  deal  with  the  Creeds  ?  We  have  got  off  that 
subject." 

"  You  wish  to  know  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  —  I  wish  to  know." 

"  The  test  of  any  doctrine  is  whether  it  can  be  translated 
into  life,  whether  it  will  make  any  difference  to  the  indi 
vidual  who  accepts  it.  The  doctrines  expressed  in  the 
Creeds  must  stand  or  fall  by  the  test.  Consider,  for  in 
stance,  the  fundamental  doctrine  in  the  Creeds,  that  of  the 
Trinity,  which  has  been  much  scoffed  at.  A  belief  in  God, 
you  will  admit,  has  an  influence  on  conduct,  and  the 
Trinity  defines  the  three  chief  aspects  of  the  God  in  whom 
Christians  believe.  Of  what  use  to  quarrel  with  the  word 
Person  if  God  be  conscious  ?  And  the  character  of  God 
has  an  influence  on  conduct.  The  ancients  deemed  him 
wrathful,  jealous,  arbitrary,  and  hence  flung  themselves 
before  him  and  propitiated  him.  If  the  conscious  God  of 
the  universe  be  good,  he  is  spoken  of  as  a  Father.  He  is 
as  once,  in  this  belief,  Father  and  Creator.  And  inasmuch 
as  it  is  known  that  the  divine  qualities  enter  into  man, 
and  that  one  Man,  Jesus,  whose  composite  portrait  — it  is 
i  agreed  —  could  not  have  been  factitiously  invented,  was 
I  filled  with  them,  we  speak  of  God  in  man  as  the  Son. 
And  the  Spirit  of  God  that  enters  into  the  soul  of  man, 


j> 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  285 


transforming,  inspiring,  and  driving  him,  is  the  Third 
Person,  so-called.  There  is  no  difficulty  so  far,  granted 
the  initial  belief  in  a  beneficent  God. 

"  If  we  agree  that  life  has  a  meaning,  and,  in  order  to 
conform  to  the  purpose  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Universe,  must 
be  lived  in  one  way,  we  certainly  cannot  object  to  calling 
that  right  way  of  living,  that  decree  of  the  Spirit,  the  Word. 
The  Incarnate  Word,  therefore,  is  the  concrete  example  of 
a  human  being  completely  tilled  with  the  Spirit,  who  lives 
a  perfect  life  according  to  its  decree.  Ancient  Greek 
philosophy  called  this  decree,  this  meaning  of  life,  the 
Logos,  and  the  Nicene  Creed  is  a  confession  of  faith  in 
that  philosophy.  Although  this  creed  is  said  to  have  been 
scandalously  forced  through  the  council  of  Nicsea  by  an 
emperor  who  had  murdered  his  wife  and  children,  and  who 
himself  was  unbaptized,  against  a  majority  of  bishops  who 
would,  if  they  had  dared  Constantine's  displeasure,  have 
given  the  conscience  freer  play,  to-day  the  difficulty  has 
practically  disappeared.  The  creed  is  there  in  the  prayer- 
book,  and  so  long  as  it  remains  we  are  at  liberty  to  interpret 
the  ancient  philosophy  in  which  it  is  written  —  and  which 
in  any  event  could  not  have  been  greatly  improved  upon  at 
that  time  —  in  our  own  modern  way,  as  I  am  trying  to  ex 
plain  it  to  you. 

"  Christ  was  identified  with  the  Logos,  or  Word,  which 
must  have  had  a  meaning  for  all  time,  before  and  after  its 
complete  revelation.  And  this  is  what  the  Nicene  Creed 
is  trying  to  express  when  it  says,  4  Begotten  of  his  Father 
before  all  worlds.'  In  other  words,  the  purpose  which 
Christ  revealed  always  existed.  The  awkard  expression 
of  the  ancients,  declaring  that  he  '  came  down '  for  our  sal 
vation  (enlightenment)  contains  a  fact  we  may  prove  by 
experience,  if  we  accept  the  meaning  he  put  upon  exist 
ence,  and  adopt  this  meaning  as  our  scheme  of  life.  But  we 
must  first  be  quite  clear  as  to  this  meaning.  We  may  and 
do  express  all  this  differently,  but  it  has  a  direct  bearing 
on  life.  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation.  We  begin 
to  perceive  through  it  that  our  own  incarnations  mean 
something,  and  that  our  task  is  to  discover  what  they  do 


286  THE  INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

mean  —  what  part  in  the  world  purpose  we  are  designed 
to  play  here. 

" 4  Incarnate  by  the  Holy  Ghost  of  the  Virgin  Mary '  is 
an  emphasis  on  the  fact  that  man  born  of  woman  may  be 
divine.  But  the  ignorant  masses  of  the  people  of  the 
Roman  Empire  were  undoubtedly  incapable  of  grasping  a 
theory  of  the  Incarnation  put  forward  in  the  terms  of  Greek 
philosophy ;  while  it  was  easy  for  them,  with  their  readi 
ness  to  believe  in  nature  miracles,  to  accept  the  explana 
tion  of  Christ's  unique  divinity  as  due  to  actual,  physical 
generation  by  the  Spirit.  And  the  wide  belief  in  the  Em 
pire  in  gods  born  in  this  way  aided  such  a  conception. 
Many  thousands  were  converted  to  Christianity  when  a 
place  was  found  in  that  religion  for  a  feminine  goddess, 
and  these  abandoned  the  worship  of  Isis,  Demeter,  and  Diana 
for  that  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  Thus  began  an  evolution 
which  is  still  going  on,  and  we  see  now  that  it  was  im 
possible  that  the  world  should  understand  at  once  the 
spiritual  meaning  of  life  as  Christ  taught  it  —  that  mate 
rial  facts  merely  symbolize  the  divine.  For  instance,  the 
Gospel  of  John  has  been  called  the  philosophical  or  spirit 
ual  gospel.  And  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  has  been  as 
sailed  and  historically  discredited  by  modern  critics,  for 
me  it  serves  to  illuminate  certain  truths  of  Christ's  mes 
sage  and  teaching  that  the  other  Gospels  do  not.  Mark,  the 
earliest  Gospel,  does  not  refer  to  the  miraculous  birth.  At 
the  commencements  of  Matthew  arid  Luke  you  will  read  of 
it,  and  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  rest  of  these  narratives  curi 
ously  and  naively  contradict  it.  Now  why  do  we  find  the 
miraculous  birth  in  these  Gospels  if  it  had  not  been  inserted 
in  order  to  prove,  in  a  manner  acceptable  to  simple  and  un 
lettered  minds,  the  Theory  of  the  Incarnation,  Christ's  pre- 
existence  ?  I  do  not  say  the  insertion  was  deliberate.  And 
it  is  difficult  for  us  moderns  to  realize  the  polemic  spirit 
in  which  the  Gospels  were  written.  They  were  clearly 
not  written  as  history.  The  concern  of  the  authors,  I 
think,  was  to  convert  their  readers  to  Christ. 

"  When  we  turn  to  John,  what  do  we  find  ?  In  the  open 
ing  verses  of  this  Gospel  the  Incarnation  is  explained,  not 


THE   KIDDLE  OF  CAUSATION  287 

by  a  virgin  birth,  but  in  a  manner  acceptable  to  the  edu 
cated  and  spiritually-minded,  in  terms  of  the  philosophy  of 
the  day.  And  yet  how  simply  !  '  In  the  beginning  was 
the  Word,  and  the  Word  was  with  God,  and  the  Word 
was  God.'  I  prefer  John's  explanation. 

"  It  is  historically  true  that,  in  the  earlier  days  when  the 
Apostles'  Creed  was  put  forth,  the  phrase  'born  of  the 
Virgin  Mary '  was  inserted  for  the  distinct  purpose  of  lay 
ing  stress  on  the  humanity  of  Christ,  and  to  controvert 
the  assertion  of  the  Gnostic  sect  that  he  was  not  born  at 
till,  but  appeared  in  the  world  in  some  miraculous  way. 

"  Thus  to-day,  by  the  aid  of  historical  research,  we  are 
enabled  to  regard  the  Creeds  in  the  light  of  their  useful 
ness  to  life.  The  myth  of  the  virgin  birth  probably  arose 
through  the  zeal  of  some  of  the  writers  of  the  Gospels  to 
prove  that  the  prophecy  of  Isaiah  predicted  the  advent  of 
the  Jewish  Messiah  who  should  be  born  of  a  virgin.  Mod 
ern  scholars  are  agreed  that  the  word  Olmah  which  Isaiah 
uses  does  not  mean  virgin,  but  young  woman.  There  is 
quite  a  different  Hebrew  word  for  'virgin.'  The  Jews, 
at  the  time  the  Gospels  were  written,  and  before,  had 
forgotten  their  ancient  Hebrew.  Knowing  this  mistake, 
and  how  it  arose,  we  may  repeat  the  word  Virgin  Mary 
in  the  sense  used  by  many  early  Christians,  as  designat 
ing  the  young  woman  who  was  the  mother  of  Christ. 

"I  might  mention  one  or  two  other  phrases,  archaic 
and  obscure.  'The  Resurrection  of  the  Body'  may  refer 
to  the  phenomenon  of  Christ's  reappearance  after  death, 
for  which  modern  psychology  may  or  may  not  account. 
A  little  reflection,  however,  convinces  one  that  the  phenom 
enon  did  take  place  in  some  manner,  or  else,  I  think,  we  should 
never  have  heard  of  Christ.  You  will  remember  that  the 
Apostles  fled  after  his  death  on  the  cross,  believing  what 
he  had  told  them  was  all  only  a  dream.  They  were  human, 
literal  and  cowardly,  and  they  still  needed  some  kind  of 
inner,  energizing  conviction  that  the  individuality  per 
sisted  after  death,  that  the  solution  of  human  life  was 
victory  over  it,  in  order  to  gain  the  courage  to  go  out  and 
preach  the  Gospel  and  face  death  themselves.  And  it 


288  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

was  Paul  who  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  freeing  the  mes 
sage  from  the  narrow  bounds  of  Palestine  and  sending  it 
ringing  down  the  ages  to  us.  The  miracle  doesn't  lie  in 
what  Paul  saw,  but  in  the  whole  man  transformed,  made 
incandescent,  journeying  tirelessly  to  the  end  of  his  days 
up  and  down  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  empire,  labour 
ing,  as  he  says,  more  abundantly  than  they  all.  It  is  idle 
to  say  that  the  thing  which  can  transform  a  man's  entire 
nature  and  life  is  not  a  reality." 

She  had  listened,  motionless,  as  under  the  spell  of  his 
words.  Self -justification,  as  he  proceeded,  might  easily 
have  fused  itself  into  a  desire  to  convince  her  of  the  truth 
of  his  beliefs.  But  he  was  not  deceived,  he  knew  her 
well  enough  to  understand,  to  feel  the  indomitable  spirit 
of  resistance  in  her.  Swayed  she  could  be,  but  she  would 
not  easily  surrender. 

"  There  is  another  phrase,"  she  said  after  a  moment, 
"which  I  have  never  heard  explained,  'descended  into 
hell.'" 

"It  was  merely  a  matter  of  controverting  those  who 
declared  Christ  was  taken  from  the  cross  before  he  died. 
In  the  childish  science  of  the  time,  to  say  that  one 
descended  into  hell  was  to  affirm  that  he  was  actually 
dead,  since  the  souls  of  the  departed  were  supposed  to  go 
at  once  to  hell.  Hell  and  heaven  were  definite  places. 
To  say  that  Christ  ascended  to  heaven  and  sat  on  the 
right  hand  of  the  Father  is  to  declare  one's  faith  that  his 
responsible  work  in  the  spiritual  realm  continues." 

"  And  the  Atonement  ?  doesn't  that  imply  a  sacrifice  of 
propitiation  ?  " 

"  Atonement  may  be  pronounced  At-one-ment,"  Hodder 
replied.  "The  old  idea,  illustrated  by  a  reference  to  the 
sacrifice  of  the  ancients,  fails  to  convey  the  truth  to 
modern  minds.  And  moreover,  as  I  have  inferred,  these 
matters  had  to  be  conveyed  in  symbols  until  mankind 
were  prepared  to  grasp  the  underlying  spiritual  truths 
which  Christ  sought  to  convey.  Orthodox  Christianity 
has  been  so  profoundly  affected  by  the  ancient  Jewish 
religion  that  the  conception  of  God  as  wrathful  and 


THE   RIDDLE  OF   CAUSATION  280 

jealous  —  a  God  wholly  outside  —  has  persisted  to  our 
times.  The  Atonement  means  union  with  the  Spirit  of 
the  Universe  through  vicarious  suffering,  and  experience 
teaches  us  that  our  own  sufferings  are  of  no  account 
unless  they  be  for  a  cause,  for  the  furtherance  of  the 
design  of  the  beneficent  Spirit  which  is  continually  at 
work.  Christ  may  be  said  to  have  died  for  humanity 
because  he  had  to  suffer  death  itself  in  order  to  reveal 
the  complete  meaning  of  life.  You  once  spoke  to  me 
about  the  sense  of  sin  —  '  of  being  unable  to  feel  it.' ' 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  There  is  a  theory  concerning  this,"  he  continued, "  which 
has  undoubtedly  helped  many  people,  and  which  may  be 
found  in  the  writings  of  certain  modern  psychologists.  It 
is  that  we  have  a  conscious,  or  lower,  human  self,  and 
a  subconscious,  or  better  self.  This  subconscious  self 
stretches  down,  as  it  were,  into  the  depths  of  the  universe 
and  taps  the  source  of  spiritual  power.  And  it  is  through 
the  subconscious  self  that  every  man  is  potentially  divine. 
Potentially,  because  the  conscious  self  has  to  reach  out  by 
an  effort  of  the  will  to  effect  this  union  with  the  spiritual 
in  the  subconscious,  and  when  it  is  effected,  it  comes  from 
the  response  of  the  subconscious.  Apparently  from  with 
out,  as  a  gift,  and  therefore,  in  theological  language,  it  is 
called  grace.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  being  c  born  again,' 
the  incarnation  of  the  Spirit  in  the  conscious,  or  human. 
The  two  selves  are  no  longer  divided,  and  the  higher 
self  assumes  control,  —  takes  the  reins,  so  to  speak. 

"  It  is  interesting,  as  a  theory.  And  the  fact  that  it  has 
been  seriously  combated  by  writers  who  deny  such  a  func 
tion  of  the  subconscious  does  not  at  all  affect  the  reality 
of  the  experience. 

"  Once  we  have  had  a  vision  of  the  true  meaning  of  life 
a  vision  which  stirs  the  energies  of  our  being,  what  is 
called  l  a  sense  of  sin  '  inevitably  follows.  It  is  the  discon 
tent,  the  regret,  in  the  light  of  a  higher  knowledge,  for  the 
lost  opportunities,  for  a  past  life  which  has  been  uncon 
trolled  by  any  unifying  purpose,  misspent  in  futile  under 
takings,  wasted,  perhaps,  in  follies  and  selfish  caprices 


290  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

which  have  not  only  harmed  ourselves  but  others.  Al 
though  we  struggle,  yet  by  habit,  by  self-indulgence,  by 
lack  of  a  sustained  purpose,  we  have  formed  a  character 
from  which  escape  seems  hopeless.  And  we  realize  that, 
in  order  to  change  ourselves,  an  actual  regeneration  of  the 
will  is  necessary.  For  a  while,  perchance,  we  despair  of  this. 
The  effort  to  get  out  of  the  rut  we  have  made  for  ourselves 
seems  of  no  avail.  And  it  is  not,  indeed,  until  we  arrive, 
gradually  or  otherwise,  and  through  a  proper  interpretation 
of  the  life  of  Christ,  at  the  conviction  that  we  may  even  now 
become  useful  in  the  divine  scheme  that  we  have  a  sense  of 
what  is  called  *the  forgiveness  of  sins.'  This  conviction, 
this  grace,  this  faith  to  embark  on  the  experiment  accom 
plishes  of  itself  the  revival  of  the  will,  the  rebirth  which 
we  had  thought  impossible.  We  discover  our  task, 
high  or  humble,  —  our  cause.  We  grow  marvellously 
at  one  with  God's  purpose,  and  we  feel  that  our  will  is 
acting  in  the  same  direction  as  his.  And  through  our 
own  atonement  we  see  the  meaning  of  that  other  Atone 
ment  which  led  Christ  to  the  Cross.  We  see  that  our 
conviction,  our  grace,  has  come  through  him,  and  how 
he  died  for  our  sins." 

"  It's  quite  wonderful  how  logical  and  simple  you  make 
it,  how  thoroughly  you  have  gone  into  it.  You  have 
solved  it  for  yourself  —  and  you  will  solve  it  for  others  — 
many  others." 

She  rose,  and  he,  too,  got  to  his  feet  with  a  medley  of 
feelings.  The  path  along  which  they  walked  was  already 
littered  with  green  acorns.  A  gray  squirrel  darted  ahead 
of  them,  gained  a  walnut  and  paused,  quivering,  halfway 
up  the  trunk,  to  gaze  back  at  them.  And  the  glance  she 
presently  gave  him  seemed  to  partake  of  the  shyness  of 
the  wild  thing. 

"  Thank  you  for  explaining  it  to  me,"  she  said. 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think "  he  began. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  that!"  she  cried,  with  unmistakable  re 
proach.  "  I  asked  you  —  I  made  you  tell  me.  It  hasn't 
seemed  at  all  like  —  the  confessional,"  she  added,  and 
smiled  and  blushed  at  the  word.  "You  have  put  it  so 


THE   RIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  291 

nicely,  so  naturally,  and  you  have  given  me  so  much  to 
think  about.  But  it  all  depends  —  doesn't  it  ?  —  upon 
whether  one  c&nfeel  the  underlying  truth  of  which  you 
spoke  in  the  first  place ;  it  rests  upon  a  sense  of  the  pre 
vailing  goodness  of  things.  It  seems  to  me  cruel  that 
what  is  called  salvation,  the  solution  of  the  problem  of 
life,  should  depend  upon  an  accidental  discovery.  We 
are  all  turned  loose  with  our  animal  passions  and  instincts 
of  self-preservation,  by  an  indifferent  Creator,  in  a  wilder 
ness,  and  left  to  find  our  way  out  as  best  we  can.  You 
answer  that  Christ  showed  us  the  way.  There  are  ele 
ments  in  his  teaching  I  cannot  accept  —  perhaps  because 
I  have  been  given  a  wrong  interpretation  of  them.  I 
shall  ask  you  more  questions  some  day. 

"  But  even  then,"  she  continued,  "  granted  that  Christ 
brought  the  complete  solution,  as  you  say,  why  should  so 
many  millions  have  lived  and  died,  before  and  after  his 
coming,  who  had  suffered  so,  and  who  had  never  heard  of 
him  ?  That  is  the  way  my  reason  works,  and  I  can't 
help  ito  I  would  help  it  if  I  could." 

"  Isn't  it  enough,"  he  asked,  "  to  know  that  a  force  is  at 
work  combating  evil,  —  even  if  you  are  not  yet  convinced 
that  it  is  a  prevailing  force  ?  Can  you  not  trust  that  it 
will  be  a  prevailing  force,  if  your  sympathies  are  with  it, 
without  demanding  a  revelation  of  the  entire  scheme  of 
the  universe  ?  Of  what  use  is  it  to  doubt  the  eternal 
justice  ?  " 

"Oh,  use!"  she  cried,  "I  grant  you  its  uselessness. 
Doubt  seems  an  ingrained  quality.  I  can't  help  being  a 
fatalist." 

"  And  yet  you  have  taken  your  life  in  your  own  hands," 
he  reminded  her,  gently. 

"  Only  to  be  convinced  of  its  futility,"  she  replied. 

Again,  momentarily  thrust  back  into  himself,  he 
wondered  jealously  once  more  what  the  disillusionments 
had  been  of  that  experience  from  before  which  she  seemed, 
at  times,  ready  to  draw  back  a  little  the  veil. 

"  A  sense  of  futility  is  a  sense  of  incompleteness,"  he 
said,  "and  generally  precedes  a  sense  of  power." 


292  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

"  Ah,  you  have  gained  that!  Yet  it  must  always  have 
been  latent  in  you  —  you  make  one  feel  it.  But  now!  " 
she  exclaimed,  as  though  the  discovery  had  just  dawned 
on  her,  "  now  you  will  need  power,  now  you  will  have  to 
fight  as  you  have  never  fought  in  your  life." 

He  found  her  enthusiasm  as  difficult  to  withstand  as 
her  stoicism. 

"  Yes,  I  shall  have  to  fight,"  he  admitted.  Her  parti 
sanship  was  sweet. 

"  When  you  tell  them  what  you  have  told  me, "  she 
continued,  as  though  working  it  out  in  her  own  mind, 
"  they  will  never  submit  to  it,  if  they  can  help  it.  My 
father  will  never  submit  to  it.  They  will  try  to  put  you 
out,  as  a  heretic,  —  won't  they  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  they  will,"  he  conceded,  with  a 
smile. 

"  And  won't  they  succeed  ?     Haven't  they  the  power  ?  " 

"  It  depends,  in  the  first  place,  on  whether  the  bishop 
thinks  me  a  heretic." 

"  Have  you  asked  him?  " 

"No." 

"  But  can't  they  make  you  resign  ?  " 

"They  can  deprive  me  of  my  salary." 

She  did  not  press  this. 

"  You  mustn't  think  me  a  martyr,"  he  pleaded,  in  a 
lighter  tone. 

She  paid  no  heed  to  this  protest,  but  continued  to  re 
gard  him  with  a  face  lighted  by  enthusiasm. 

"  Oh,  that's  splendid  of  you!"  she  cried.  "  You  are 
going  to  speak  the  truth  as  you  see  it,  and  let  them  do 
their  worst.  Of  course,  fundamentally,  it  isn't  merely 
because  they're  orthodox  that  they  won't  like  it,  although 
they'll  say  so,  and  perhaps  think  so.  It  will  be  because  — 
if  you  have  really  found  the  truth  —  they  will  instinctively 
fear  its  release.  For  it  has  a  social  bearing,  too  —  hasn't 
it?  —  although  you  haven't  explained  that  part  of  it." 

"  It  has  a  distinct  social  bearing,"  he  replied,  amazed  at 
the  way  her  mind  flew  forward  and  grasped  the  entire 
issue,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  honesty  still  refused  to 


THE   KIDDLE   OF   CAUSATION  293 

concede  his  premises.  Such  were  the  contradictions  in 
her  that  he  loved.  And,  though  she  did  not  suspect  it, 
she  had  in  her  the  Crusader's  spirit.  "  I  have  always 
remembered  what  you  once  said,  that  many  who  believed 
themselves  Christians  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  there 
is  a  spark  in  Christianity  which,  if  allowed  to  fly,  would 
start  a  conflagration  beyond  their  control.  And  that  they 
had  covered  the  spark  with  ashes.  I,  too,"  he  added 
whimsically,  "was  buried  under  the  ashes." 

"And  the  spark,"  she  demanded,  "is  not  Socialism  — 
their  nightmare  ?  " 

"The  spark  is  Christianity  itself  — but  I  am  afraid  they 
will  not  be  able  to  distinguish  it  from  Socialism.  The 
central  paradox  in  Christianity  consists  in  the  harmoniz 
ing  of  the  individual  and  socialistic  spirit,  and  this  re 
moves  it  as  far  from  the  present  political  doctrine  of  so 
cialism  as  it  is  possible  to  be.  Christianity,  looked  at 
from  a  certain  viewpoint,  —  and  I  think  the  proper  view 
point, —  is  the  most  individualistic  of  religions,  since  its 
basic  principle  is  the  development  of  the  individual  into 
an  autonomous  being." 

They  stood  facing  each  other  on  an  open  stretch  of 
lawn.  The  place  was  deserted.  Through  the  trees,  in 
the  near  distance,  the  sightless  front  of  the  Ferguson 
mansion  blazed  under  the  September  sun. 

"Individualistic  !"  she  repeated,  as  though  dazed  by  the 
word  applied  to  the  religion  she  had  discarded.  "I  can't 
understand.  Do  you  think  I  ever  can  understand  ?  "  she 
asked  him,  simply. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  understand  more  than  you  are 
willing  to  give  yourself  credit  for,"  he  answered  seriously. 
"You  don't  take  into  account  your  attitude." 

"I  see  what  you  mean — a  willingness  to  take  the  right 
road,  if  I  can  find  it.  I  am  not  at  all  sure  that  I  want  to 
take  it.  But  you  must  tell  me  more  —  more  of  what  you 
have  discovered.  Will  you?" 

He  just  hesitated.  She  herself  appeared  to  acknow 
ledge  no  bar  to  their  further  intimacy  —  why  should  he? 

"I  will  tell  you  all  I  know,"  he  said. 


294  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Suddenly,  as  if  by  a  transference  of  thought,  she  voiced 
what  he  had  in  mind. 

"You  are  going  to  tell  them  the  truth  about  them 
selves  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  That  they  are  not  Christians  !  " 

His  silence  was  an  admission. 

"  You  must  see,"  he  told  her,  after  the  moment  they  had 
looked  into  each  other's  faces,  "that  this  is  the  main  rea 
son  why  I  must  stay  at  St.  John's,  in  the  Church,  if  I 
conscientiously  can." 

"I  see.  The  easier  course  would  be  to  resign,  to  have 
scruples.  And  you  believe  there  is  a  future  for  the 
Church." 

"I  believe  it,"  he  assented. 

She  still  held  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  it  is  worth  doing.  If  you  see  it  that  way  it  is 
more  worth  doing  than  anything  else.  Please  don't  think," 
she  said,  "that  I  don't  appreciate  why  you  have  told  me 
all  this,  why  you  have  given  me  your  reasons.  I  know  it 
hasn't  been  easy.  It's  because  you  wish  me  to  have  faith 
in  you  for  my  own  sake,  not  for  yours.  And  I  am  grate 
ful." 

"And  if  that  faith  is  justified,  as  you  will  help  to  jus 
tify  it,  that  it  may  be  transferred  to  a  larger  sphere,"  he 
answered. 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  but  did  not  reply. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

MB.    GOODKICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN 


IN  these  days  of  his  preparation,  she  haunted  him  con 
tinually.  In  her  he  saw  typified  all  those  who  possessed  the 
divine  discontent,  the  yearning  unsatisfied,  —  the  fatalists 
and  the  dreamers.  And  yet  she  seemed  to  have  risen 
through  instinct  to  share  the  fire  of  his  vision  of  reli 
gion  revealed  to  the  countless  ranks  of  strugglers  as  the 
hidden  motive-power  of  the  world,  the  impetus  of  scien 
tist,  statesman,  artist,  and  philanthropist !  They  had 
stood  together  on  the  heights  of  the  larger  view,  whence 
the  whole  of  the  battle-line  lay  disclosed. 

At  other  and  more  poignant  moments  he  saw  her  as 
waving  him  bravely  on  while  he  steamed  out  through 
towering  seas  to  safety.  The  impression  was  that  of 
smiling  at  her  destiny.  Had  she  fixed  upon  it  ?  and  did 
she  linger  now  only  that  she  might  inspire  him  in  his 
charge  ?  She  was  capable,  he  knew,  of  taking  calmly  the 
irrevocable  step,  of  accepting  the  decree  as  she  read  it. 
The  thought  tortured,  the  desire  to  save  her  from  herself 
obsessed  him  ;  with  true  clairvoyance  she  had  divined 
him  aright  when  she  had  said  that  he  wished  her  to 
have  faith  in  him  for  her  own  sake.  Could  he  save  her 
in  spite  of  herself  ?  and  how  ?  He  could  not  see  her, 
except  by  chance.  Was  she  waiting  until  he  should 
have  crossed  the  bar  before  she  should  pay  some  inexor 
able  penalty  of  which  he  knew  nothing  ? 

Thus  he  speculated,  suffered,  was  at  once  cast  down 
and  lifted  up  by  the  thought  of  her.  To  him,  at  least, 
she  was  one  of  those  rare  and  dauntless  women,  the  red 

295 


296  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

stars  of  history,  by  whom  the  Dantes  and  Leonardos  are 
fired  to  express  the  inexpressible,  and  common  clay  is 
fused  and  made  mad:  one  of  those  women  who,  the  more 
they  reveal,  become  the  more  inscrutable.  Divinely  inar 
ticulate,  he  called  her  ;  arousing  the  passion  of  the  man, 
yet  stirring  the  sublimer  efforts  of  the  god. 

What  her  feelings  toward  him,  whether  she  loved  him 
as  a  woman  loves  a  man  he  could  not  say,  no  man  being  a 
judge  in  the  supreme  instance.  She  beheld  him  emanci 
pated,  perhaps,  from  what  she  might  have  called  the  fet 
ters  of  an  orthodoxy  for  which  she  felt  an  instinctive 
antagonism  ;  but  whether,  though  proclaiming  himself 
free,  the  fact  of  his  continuation  in  the  ministry  would 
not  of  itself  set  up  in  her  a  reaction,  he  was  unable  to 
predict.  Her  antipathy  to  forms,  he  saw,  was  inherent. 
Her  interest  —  her  fascinated  absorption,  it  might  be 
called  —  in  his  struggle  was  spiritual,  indeed,  but  it  also 
had  mixed  in  it  the  individualistic  zeal  of  the  non-conform 
ist.  She  resented  the  trammels  of  society,  though  she 
suffered  from  her  efforts  to  transcend  them.  The  course 
he  had  determined  upon  appeared  to  her  as  a  rebellion 
not  only  against  a  cut-and-dried  state  of  mind,  but  also 
against  vested  privilege.  Yet  she  had  in  her,  as  she 
confessed,  the  craving  for  what  privilege  brings  in  the 
way  of  harmonious  surroundings.  He  loved  her  for  her 
contradictions. 

Thus  he  was  utterly  unable  to  see  what  the  future  held 
for  him  in  the  way  of  continued  communion  with  her,  to 
evolve  any  satisfactory  theory  as  to  why  she  remained  in 
the  city.  She  had  told  him  that  the  gardens  were  an  ex 
cuse.  She  had  come,  by  her  own  intimation,  to  reflect, 
to  decide  some  momentous  question.  Marriage  ?  He 
found  this  too  agitating  to  dwell  upon,  summoning,  as  it 
did,  conjectures  of  the  men  she  might  have  known  ;  and 
it  was  perhaps  natural,  in  view  of  her  attitude,  that  he 
could  only  think  of  such  a  decision  on  her  part  as  surren 
der. 

That  he  had  caught  and  held  her  attention,  although 
by  no  conscious  effort  of  his  own,  was  clear  to  him.  But 


MR.   GOODRICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN       297 

had  lie  not  merely  arrested  her  ?  Would  she  not  pres 
ently  disappear,  leaving  only  in  his  life  the  scarlet  thread 
which  she  had  woven  into  it  for  all  time  ?  Would  he  not 
fail  to  change,  permanently,  the  texture  of  hers  ? 

Such  were  his  hopes  and  fears  concerning  her,  and  they 
were  mingled  inextricably  with  other  hopes  and  fears 
which  had  to  do  with  the  great  venture  of  his  life.  He 
dwelt  in  a  realm  of  paradoxes,  discovered  that  exaltation 
was  not  incompatible  with  anxiety  and  dread.  He  had 
no  thought  of  wavering  ;  he  had  achieved  to  an  extent  he 
would  not  have  believed  possible  the  sense  of  consecration 
which  brings  with  it  indifference  to  personal  fortunes,  and 
the  revelation  of  the  inner  world,  and  yet  he  shrank  from 
the  wounds  he  was  about  to  receive  —  and  give.  Out 
wardly  controlled,  he  lived  in  the  state  of  intense  excite 
ment  of  the  leader  waiting  for  the  time  to  charge.  .  .  . 

II 

The  moment  was  at  hand.  September  had  waned,  the 
nights  were  cooling,  his  parishioners  were  returning  from 
the  East.  One  of  these  was  Eleanor  Goodrich,  whom  he 
met  on  a  corner,  tanned  and  revived  from  her  long  sum 
mer  in  Massachusetts.  She  had  inherited  the  kindly 
shrewdness  of  glance  characteristic  of  gentlefolk,  the 
glance  that  seeks  to  penetrate  externals  in  its  concern  for 
the  well-being  of  those  whom  it  scrutinizes.  And  he  was 
subtly  aware,  though  she  greeted  him  cordially,  that  she 
felt  a  change  in  him  without  being  able  to  account 
for  it. 

"I  hear  you  have  been  here  all  summer,"  she  said  re 
proachfully.  "  Mother  and  father  and  all  of  us  were 
much  disappointed  that  you  did  not  come  to  us  on  the 
Cape." 

"  I  should  have  come,  if  it  had  been  possible,"  he  re 
plied.  "  It  seems  to  have  done  you  a  world  of  good." 

"  Oh,  I  !  "  She  seemed  slightly  embarrassed,  puzzled, 
and  did  not  look  at  him.  "  I  am  burned  as  disgracefully 
as  Evelyn.  Phil  came  on  for  a  month.  He  tells  me  he 


298  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

hasn't  seen  you,  but  that  isn't  surprising,  for  he  hasn't 
been  to  church  since  June  —  and  he's  a  vestryman  now, 
too." 

She  was  in  mourning  for  her  father-in-law,  who  had 
died  in  the  spring.  Phil  Goodrich  had  taken  his  place. 
Eleanor  found  the  conversation,  somehow,  drifting  out  of 
her  control.  It  was  not  at  all  what  she  would  have  de 
sired  to  say.  Her  colour  heightened. 

"  I  have  not  been  conducting  the  services,  but  I  resume 
them  next  Sunday,"  said  the  rector.  "  I  ought  to  tell 
you,"  he  went  on,  regarding  her,  "  in  view  of  the  conver 
sation  we  have  had,  that  I  have  changed  my  mind  con 
cerning  a  great  many  things  we  have  talked  about  —  al 
though  I  have  not  spoken  of  this  as  yet  to  any  of  the 
members  of  the  congregation." 

She  Avas  speechless,  and  could  only  stare  at  him  blankly. 

"  I  mean,"  he  continued,  with  a  calmness  that  astonished 
her  afterwards,  "  that  I  have  changed  my  whole  concep 
tion  as  to  the  functions  and  future  of  the  Church,  that  I 
have  come  to  your  position,  that  we  must  make  up  our 
minds  for  ourselves,  and  not  have  them  made  up  for  us. 
And  that  we  must  examine  into  the  truth  of  all  state 
ments,  and  be  governed  accordingly." 

Her  attitude  was  one  of  mingled  admiration,  concern, 
and  awe.  And  he  saw  that  she  had  grasped  something 
of  the  complications  which  his  course  was  likely  to  bring 
about. 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us !  "  she  managed  to 
exclaim. 

"  Not  if  it  is  possible  to  remain,"  he  said,  smiling. 

"I  am  so  glad."  She  was  still  overpowered  by  the  dis 
closure.  "  It  is  good  of  you  to  tell  me.  Do  you  mind 
my  telling  Phil?" 

"Not  at  all,"  he  assured  her. 

"  Will  you  forgive  me,"  she  asked,  after  a  slight  pause 
during  which  she  had  somewhat  regained  her  composure, 
"  if  I  say  that  I  always  thought,  or  rather  hoped  you 
would  change  ?  that  your  former  beliefs  seemed  so  —  un 
like  you?  " 


MR.    GOODRICH   BECOMES  A   PARTISAN       299 

He  continued  to  smile  at  her  as  she  stepped  forward  to 
take  the  car. 

"  I'll  have  to  forgive  you,"  he  answered,  "  because  you 
were  right.  ..." 

She  was  still  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  when  she  ar 
rived  down  town  that  she  went  direct  to  her  husband's 
law  office. 

"  I  like  this ! "  he  exclaimed,  as,  unannounced,  she 
opened  the  door  of  his  sanctuary.  "  You  might  have 
caught  me  with  one  of  those  good-looking  clients  of 
mine." 

"  Oh,  Phil ! "  she  cried,  "  I've  got  such  a  piece  of  news, 
I  couldn't  resist  coming  to  tell  you.  I  met  Mr.  Hodder 

—  and  he's  changed." 

"  Changed  !  "  Phil  repeated,  looking  up  at  her  flushed 
face  beside  him.  Instead  of  a  law-book,  he  flung  down  a 
time  table  in  which  he  had  been  investigating  the  trains 
to  a  quail  shooting  club  in  the  southern  part  of  the  state. 
The  transition  to  Mr.  Hodder  was,  therefore,  somewhat 
abrupt.  "  Why,  Nell,  to  look  at  you,  I  thought  it  could 
be  nothing  else  than  my  somewhat  belated  appointment 
to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court.  How  has  Hodder 
changed?  I  always  thought  him  pretty  decent." 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me,"  she  begged,  "  it's  really  serious 

—  and  no  one  knows  it  yet.     He  said  I  might  tell  you. 
Do  you  remember  that  talk  we  had  at  father's,  when  he 
first  came,  and  we  likened  him  to  a  modern  Savonarola  ?  " 

"  And  George  Bridges  took  the  floor,  and  shocked 
mother  and  Lucy  and  Laureston,"  supplied  Phil. 

" 1  don't  believe  mother  really  was  as  much  shocked  as 
she  appeared  to  be,"  said  Eleanor.  "  At  any  rate,  the 
thing  that  had  struck  us  —  you  and  me  —  was  that  Mr. 
Hodder  looked  as  though  he  could  say  something  helpful, 
if  he  only  would.  And  then  I  went  to  see  him  afterwards, 
in  the  parish  house  —  you  remember  ?  —  after  we  had  been 
reading  modern  criticism  together,  and  he  told  me  that 
the  faith  which  had  come  down  from  the  fathers  was  like 
an  egg  ?  It  couldn't  be  chipped.  I  was  awfully  disap 
pointed —  and  yet  I  couldn't  help  liking  him,  he  was  so 


300  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

jionest.  And  the  theological  books  he  gave  me  to  read  — 
which  were  so  mediaeval  and  absurd  !  Well,  he  has  come 
around  to  our  point  of  view.  He  told  me  so  himself." 

"  But  what  is  our  point  of  view,  Nell  ?  "  her  husband 
asKed,  with  a  smile.  "  Isn't  it  a  good  deal  like  Professor 
Bridges',  only  we're  not  quite  so  learned?  We're  just 
ordinary  heathens,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out.  If  Hodder 
has  our  point  of  view,  he  ought  to  go  into  the  law  or  a 
trust  company." 

"  Oh,  Phil !  "  she  protested,  "  and  you're  on  the  vestry  ! 
I  do  believe  in  Something,  and  so  do  you." 

"  Something"  he  observed,  "  is  hardly  a  concrete  and 
complete  theology." 

"  Why  do  you  make  me  laugh,"  she  reproached  him, 
"  when  the  matter  is  so  serious?  What  I'm  trying  to  tell 
you  is  that  I'm  sure  Mr.  Hodder  has  worked  it  out.  He's 
too  sincere  to  remain  in  the  Church  and  not  have  some 
thing  constructive  and  satisfying.  I've  always  said  that 
he  seemed  to  have  a  truth  shut  up  inside  of  him  which  he 
could  not  communicate.  Well,  now  he  looks  as  though 
he  were  about  to  communicate  it,  as  though  he  had  dis 
covered  it.  I  suppose  you  think  me  silly,  but  you'll 
grant,  whatever  Mr.  Hodder  may  be,  he  isn't  silly.  And 
women  can  feel  these  things.  You  know  I'm  not  given 
to  sentimentality,  but  I  was  never  so  impressed  by  the 
growth  in  any  personality  as  I  was  this  morning  by  his. 
He  seems  to  have  become  himself,  as  I  always  imagined 
him.  And,  Phil,  he  was  so  fine  !  He's  absolutely  inca 
pable  of  posing,  as  you'll  admit,  and  he  stood  right  up 
and  acknowledged  that  he'd  been  wrong  in  our  argument. 
He  hasn't  had  the  services  all  summer,  and  when  he  re 
sumes  them  next  Sunday  I  gathered  that  he  intends  to 
make  his  new  position  clear." 

Mr.  Goodrich  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  gave 
a  low  whistle. 

"I  guess  I  won't  go  shooting  Saturday,  after  all,"  he 
declared.  "  I  wouldn't  miss  Hodder's  sermon  for  all  the 
quail  in  Harrington  County." 

"  It's   high   time   you   did   go    to   church,"    remarked 


MR.   GOODRICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN       301 

Eleanor,  contemplating,  not  without  pride,  her  husband's 
close-cropped,  pugnacious  head. 

"  Your  judgments  are  pretty  sound,  Nell.  I'll  do 
you  that  credit.  And  I've  always  owned  up  that  Hodder 
would  be  a  fighter  if  he  ever  got  started.  It's  written  all 
over  him.  What's  more,  I've  a  notion  that  some  of  our 
friends  are  already  a  little  suspicious  of  him." 

"You  mean  Mr.  Parr?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 

"No,  Wallis  Plimpton." 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  disdain  in  her  voice. 

"  Mr.  Parr  only  got  back  yesterday,  and  Wallis  told 
me  that  Hodder  had  refused  to  go  on  a  yachting  trip 
with  him.  Not  only  foolishness,  but  high  treason." 
Phil  smiled.  "  Plimpton's  the  weather-vane,  the  barom 
eter  of  that  crowd  —  he  feels  a  disturbance  long  before 
it  turns  up —  he's  as  sensitive  as  the  stock  market." 

"  He  is  the  stock  market,"  said  Eleanor. 

"  It's  been  my  opinion,"  Phil  went  on  reflectively, 
"  that  they've  all  had  just  a  trace  of  uneasiness  about 
Hodder  all  along,  an  idea  that  Nelson  Langmaid  slipped 
up  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  when  he  got  him  to  come. 
Oh,  the  feeling's  been  dormant,  but  it  existed.  And 
they've  been  just  a  little  afraid  that  they  couldn't  handle 
him  if  the  time  ever  came.  He's  not  their  type.  When 
I  saw  Plimpton  at  the  Country  Club  the  other  day  he 
wondered,  in  that  genial,  off-hand  manner  of  his,  whether 
Hodder  would  continue  to  be  satisfied  with  St.  John's. 
Plimpton  said  he  might  be  offered  a  missionary  diocese. 
Oh,  we'll  have  a  fine  old  row." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Eleanor,  "  that  that's  the  only  thing 
that  interests  you." 

u  Well,  it  does  please  me,"  he  admitted,  "  when  I  think 
of  Gordon  Atterbury  and  Everett  Constable  and  a  few 
others,  —  Eldon  Parr,  —  who  believe  that  religion  ought 
to  be  kept  archaic  and  innocuous,  served  in  a  form  that 
won't  bother  anybody.  By  the  way,  Nell,  do  you  re 
member  the  verse  the  Professor  quoted  about  the  Phari 
sees,  and  cleansing  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  why  ?  " 


302  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  Well  —  Hodder  didn't  give  you  any  intimation  as 
to  what  he  intended  to  do  about  that  sort  of  thing, 
did  he?" 

"  What  sort  of  thing  ?  " 

"  About  the  inside  of  Eldon  Parr's  cup,  —  so  to  speak. 
And  the  inside  of  Wallis  Plimpton's  cup,  and  Everett 
Constable's  cup,  and  Ferguson's  cup,  and  Langmaid's. 
Did  it  ever  strike  you  that,  in  St.  John's,  we  have  the 
sublime  spectacle  of  Eldon  Parr,  the  Pharisee  in  chief, 
conducting  the  Church  of  Christ,  who  uttered  that  denun 
ciation  ?  That's  what  George  Bridges  meant.  There's 
something  rather  ironical  in  such  a  situation,  to  say  the 
least." 

"  I  see,"  said  Eleanor,  thoughtfully. 

"And  what's  more,  it's  typical,"  continued  Phil,  ener 
getically,  "the  big  Baptist  church  on  the  Boulevard  is 
run  by  old  Sedges,  as  canny  a  rascal  as  you  could  find 
in  the  state.  The  inside  of  his  cup  has  never  been 
touched,  though  he  was  once  immersed  in  the  Mississippi, 
they  say,  and  swallowed  a  lot  of  water." 

"Oh,  Phil!" 

"  Hodder's  been  pretty  intimate  with  Eldon  Parr  — 
that  always  puzzled  me,"  Phil  went  on.  "  And  yet  I'm 
like  you,  I  never  doubted  Hodder's  honesty.  I've  always 
been  curious  to  know  what  would  happen  when  he  found 
out  the  kind  of  thing  Eldon  Parr  is  doing  every  day  in 
his  life,  making  people  stand  and  deliver  in  the  interest 
of  what  he  would  call  National  Prosperity.  Why,  that 
fellow,  Funk,  they  sent  to  the  penitentiary  the  other  day 
for  breaking  into  the  Addicks'  house  isn't  a  circumstance 
to  Eldon  Parr.  He's  robbed  his  tens  of  thousands,  and 
goes  on  robbing  them  right  along.  By  the  way,  Mr.  Parr 
took  most  of  Addicks'  money  before  Funk  got  his  silver." 

"  Phil,  you  have  such  a  ridiculous  way  of  putting 
things!  But  I  suppose  it's  true." 

"True!  I  should  say  it  was!  There  was  Mr.  Bentley 
—  that  was  mild.  And  there  never  was  a  hold-up  of  a 
western  express  that  could  compare  to  the  Consolidated 
Tractions..  Some  of  these  big  fellows  have  the  same  kind  of 


MR.   GOODRICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN       303 

brain  as  the  professional  thieves.  Well,  they  are  pro- 
fessional  thieves  —  what's  the  use  of  mincing  matters? 
They  never  try  the  same  game  twice.  Mr.  Parr's  getting 
ready  to  make  another  big  haul  right  now.  I  know, 
because  Plimpton  said  as  much,  although  he  didn't  con 
fide  in  me  what  this  particular  piece  of  rascality  is.  He 
knows  better."  Phil  Goodrich  looked  grim. 

"  But  the  law  ?  "  exclaimed  his  wife. 

"  There  never  was  a  law  that  Nelson  Langmaid  couldn't 
drive  a  horse  and  carriage  through." 

"  And  Mr.  Langmaid's  one  of  the  nicest  men  I  know  ! " 

"  What  I  wonder,"  mused  Phil,  "  is  whether  this  is  a 
mere  doctrinal  revolt  on  Hodder's  part,  or  whether  he 
has  found  out  a  few  things.  There  are  so  many  parsons 
in  these  days  who  don't  seem  to  see  any  inconsistency 
in  robbing  several  thousand  people  to  build  settlement 
houses  and  carved  marble  altars,  and  who  wouldn't  accept 
a  Christmas  box  from  a  highwayman.  But  I'll  do  Hodder 
the  justice  to  say  he  doesn't  strike  me  as  that  kind. 
And  I  have  an  idea  that  Eldon  Parr  and  Wallis  Plimpton 
and  the  rest  know  he  isn't,  know  that  he'd  be  a  Tartar 
if  he  ever  got  started,  and  that's  what  makes  them 
uneasy." 

"  Then  it  isn't  his  change  of  religious  opinions  they 
would  care  about  ?  "  said  Eleanor. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  that  Eldon  Parr  won't  try  to  throw 
him  out  if  he  questions  the  faith  as  delivered  by  the 
Saints." 

"  Phil,  what  a  way  of  putting  it!  " 

"Any  indication  of  independence,  any  approach  to 
truth  would  be  regarded  as  dangerous,"  Phil  continued. 
"  And  of  course  Gordon  Atterbury  and  others  we  could 
mention,  who  think  they  believe  in  the  unchipped  egg 
theory,  will  be  outraged.  But  it's  deeper  than  that. 
Eldon  Parr  will  give  orders  that  Hodder's  to  go." 

"  Give  orders  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  That  vestry,  so  far  as  Mr.  Parr  is  con 
cerned,  is  a  mere  dummy  board  of  directors.  He's  made 
Langmaid,  and  Plimpton,  and  even  Everett  Constable,  who's 


304  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  son  of  an  honourable  gentleman,  and  ought  to  know 
better.  And  he  can  ruin  them  by  snapping  his  fingers. 
He  can  even  make  the  financial  world  too  hot  for  Fergu 
son.  I'll  say  this  for  Gordon  Atterbury,  that  Mr.  Parr 
can't  control  him,  but  he's  got  a  majority  without  him, 
and  Gordon  won't  vote  for  a  heretic.  Who  are  left, 
except  father-in-law  Waring  and  myself  ?  " 

"  He  can't  control  either  of  you  I "  said  Eleanor, 
proudly. 

"  When  it  comes  to  that,  Nell,  we'll  move  into  Canada 
and  buy  a  farm." 

"But  can  he  hurt  you,  Phil  —  either  of  you?"  she 
asked,  after  a  moment. 

"I'd  like  to  see  him  try  it,"  Phil  Goodrich  declared. 

And  his  wife  thought,  as  she  looked  at  him,  that  she 
would  like  to  see  Mr.  Parr  try  it,  too. 

in 

Phil  Goodrich  had  once  said  that  Mr.  Plimpton's  trans 
lation  of  the  national  motto  E  pluribus  unum,  was  "  get 
together,"  and  it  was  true  that  not  the  least  of  Mr.  Plimp 
ton's  many  gifts  was  that  of  peace  making.  Such  was 
his  genius  that  he  scented  trouble  before  it  became  mani 
fest  to  the  world,  and  he  stoutly  declared  that  no  differ 
ence  of  opinion  ever  existed  between  reasonable  men  that 
might  not  be  patched  up  before  the  breach  became  too 
wide  —  provided  that  a  third  reasonable  man  contributed 
his  services.  The  qualifying  word  "  reasonable  "  is  to 
be  noted.  When  Mr.  Bedloe  Hubbell  had  undertaken, 
in  the  name  of  Reform,  to  make  a  witch's  cauldron  of 
the  city's  politics,  which  Mr.  Beatty  had  hitherto  con 
ducted  so  smoothly  from  the  back  room  of  his  saloon, 
Mr.  Plimpton  had  unselfishly  offered  his  services.  Bed 
loe  Hubbell,  although  he  had  been  a  playmate  of  Mr. 
Plimpton's  wife's,  had  not  proved  "  reasonable,"  and  had 
rejected  with  a  scorn  only  to  be  deemed  fanatical  the 
suggestion  that  Mr.  Hubbell's  interests  and  Mr.  Beatty's 
interests  need  not  clash,  since  Mr.  Hubbell  might  go  to 


ME.   GOODRICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN       305 

Congress!  And  Mr.  Plimpton  was  the  more  hurt  since 
the  happy  suggestion  was  his  own,  and  he  had  had  no 
little  difficulty  in  getting  Mr.  Beatty  to  agree  to  it. 

Yet  Mr.  Plimpton's  career  in  the  ennobling  role  of 
peacemaker  had,  on  the  whole,  been  crowned  with  such 
success  as  to  warrant  his  belief  in  the  principle.  Mr. 
Parr,  for  instance,  —  in  whose  service,  as  in  that  of  any  other 
friend,  Mr.  Plimpton  was  always  ready  to  act — had  had 
misunderstandings  with  eminent  fianciers,  and  sometimes 
with  United  States  Senators.  Mr.  Plimpton  had  made 
many  trips  to  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  sometimes  in 
company  with  Mr.  Langmaid,  sometimes  not,  and  on  one 
memorable  occasion  had  come  away  smiling  from  an  inter 
view  with  the  occupant  of  the  White  House  himself. 

Lest  Mr.  Plimpton's  powers  of  premonition  seem  super 
natural,  it  may  be  well  to  reveal  the  comparative  simplicity 
of  his  methods.  Genius,  analyzed,  is  often  disappointing, 
—  Mr.  Plimpton's  was  selective  and  synthetic.  To  illus 
trate  in  a  particular  case,  he  had  met  Mr.  Parr  in  New 
York  and  had  learned  that  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hodder  had 
not  only  declined  to  accompany  the  banker  on  a  yachting 
trip,  but  had  elected  to  remain  in  the  city  all  summer,  in 
his  rooms  in  the  parish  house,  while  conducting  no  ser 
vices.  Mr.  Parr  had  thought  this  peculiar.  On  his  re 
turn  home  Mr.  Plimpton  had  one  day  dropped  in  to  see  a 
Mr.  Gaines,  the  real  estate  agent  for  some  of  his  property. 
And  Mr.  Plimpton  being  hale-fellow-well-met,  Mr.  Gaines 
had  warned  him  jestingly  that  he  would  better  not  let  his 
parson  know  that  he  owned  a  half  interest  in  a  certain 
hotel  in  Dalton  Street,  which  was  leased  at  a  profitable 
rate. 

If  Mr.  Plimpton  felt  any  uneasiness,  he  did  not  betray 
it.  And  he  managed  to  elicit  from  the  agent,  in  an  en 
tirely  casual  and  jovial  manner,  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hodder, 
a  month  or  so  before,  had  settled  the  rent  of  a  woman  for 
a  Dalton  Street  flat,  and  had  been  curious  to  discover  the 
name  of  the  owner.  Mr.  Gaines,  whose  business  it  was  to 
recognize  everybody,  was  sure  of  Mr.  Hodder,  although 
he  had  not  worn  clerical  clothes. 


306  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Mr.  Plimpton  became  very  thoughtful  when  he  had 
left  the  office.  He  visited  Nelson  Langmaid  in  the  Parr 
Building.  And  the  result  of  the  conference  was  to  cause 
Mr.  Langmaid  to  recall,  with  a  twinge  of  uneasiness,  a 
certain  autumn  morning  in  a  room  beside  Bremerton  Lake 
when  he  had  been  faintly  yet  distinctly  conscious  of  the 
admonitory  whisperings  of  that  sixth  sense  which  had 
saved  him  on  other  occasions. 

"  Dash  it  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  after  Mr.  Plimpton  had 
departed,  and  he  stood  in  the  window  and  gazed  across  at 
the  flag  on  the  roof  of  "  Ferguson's."  "  It  would  serve 
me  right  for  meddling  in  this  parson  business.  Why  did 
I  take  him  away  from  Jerry  Whitely,  anyhow?" 

It  added  to  Nelson  Langmaid's  discomfort  that  he  had 
a  genuine  affection,  even  an  admiration  for  the  parson  in 
question.  He  might  have  known  by  looking  at  the  man 
that  he  would  wake  up  some  day,  —  such  was  the  burden 
of  his  lament.  And  there  came  to  him,  ironically  out  of  the 
past,  the  very  words  of  Mr.  Parr's  speech  to  the  vestry 
after  Dr.  Oilman's  death,  that  succinct  list  of  qualifications 
for  a  new  rector  which  he  himself,  Nelson  Langmaid,  had 
humorously  and  even  more  succinctly  epitomized.  Their 
"  responsibility  to  the  parish,  to  the  city,  and  to  God  "  had 
been  to  find  a  rector  "  neither  too  old  nor  too  young,  who 
would  preach  the  faith  as  we  received  it,  who  was  not  sen 
sational,  and  who  did  not  mistake  Socialism  for  Christian 
ity."  At  the  "Socialism"  a  certain  sickly  feeling  pos 
sessed  the  lawyer,  and  he  wiped  beads  of  perspiration  from 
his  dome-like  forehead. 

He  didn't  pretend  to  be  versed  in  theology  —  so  he  had 
declared  —  and  at  the  memory  of  these  words  of  his  the 
epithet  "  ass,"  self  applied,  passed  his  lips.  "  You  want  a 
parson  who  will  stick  to  his  last,  not  too  high  or  too  low  or 
too  broad  or  too  narrow,  who  has  intellect  without  too 
much  initiative  .  .  .  and  will  not  get  the  church  uncom 
fortably  full  of  strangers  and  run  you  out  of  your  pews." 
Thus  he  had  capped  the  financier.  Well,  if  they  had 
caught  a  tartar,  it  served  him,  Nelson  Langmaid,  right. 
He  recalled  his  talk  with  Gerald  Whitely,  and  how  his 


MR.   GOOBRICH  BECOMES  A  PARTISAN       307 

brother-in-law  had  lost  his  temper  when  they  had  got  on 
the  subject  of  personality.  .  .  . 

Perhaps  Wallis  Plimpton  could  do  something.  Lang- 
maid's  hopes  of  this  were  not  high.  It  may  have  been  that 
he  had  suspicions  of  what  Mr.  Plimpton  would  have  called 
Hodder's  "reasonableness."  One  thing  was  clear  — that 
Mr.  Plimpton  was  frightened.  In  the  sanctuaries,  the 
private  confessionals  of  high  finance  (and  Nelson  Lang- 
maid's  office  may  be  called  so),  the  more  primitive  emo 
tions  are  sometimes  exhibited. 

"  I  don't  see  what  business  it  is  of  a  clergyman,  or  of 
any  one  else,  whether  I  own  property  in  Dalton  Street," 
Mr.  Plimpton  had  said,  as  he  sat  on  the  edge  of  the 
lawyer's  polished  mahogany  desk.  "  What  does  he  ex 
pect  us  to  do,  —  allow  our  real  estate  to  remain  unproduc 
tive  merely  for  sentimental  reasons?  That's  like  a  par 
son,  most  of  'em  haven't  got  any  more  common  sense  than 
that.  What  right  has  he  got  to  go  nosing  around  Dalton 
Street?  Why  doesn't  he  stick  to  his  church?  " 

"  I  thought  you  fellows  were  to  build  him  a  settlement 
house  there,"  Langmaid  observed. 

uOn  the  condition  that  he  wouldn't  turn  socialist." 

"You'd  better  have  stipulated  it  in  the  bond,"  said  the 
lawyer,  who  could  not  refrain,  even  at  this  solemn  moment, 
from  the  temptation  of  playing  upon  Mr.  Plimpton's  ap 
prehensions.  "  I'm  afraid  he'll  make  it  his  business, 
Wallis,  to  find  out  whether  you  own  anything  in  Dalton 
Street.  I'll  bet  he's  got  a  list  of  Dalton  Street  property 
in  his  pocket  right  now." 

Mr.  Plimpton  groaned. 

"Thank  God  I  don't  own  any  of  it  !"  said  Langmaid. 

"  What  the  deuce  does  he  intend  to  do?  "  the  other  de 
manded. 

"  Read  it  out  in  church,"  Langmaid  suggested.  "  It 
wouldn't  sound  pretty,  Wallis,  to  be  advertised  in  the 
Post  on  Monday  morning  as  owning  that  kind  of  a  hotel." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  "  he 
wouldn't  do  anything  as  low  as  that  !  " 

"  But  if  he's  become  a  socialist  ?  "objected  Langmaid. 


308  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  He  wouldn't  do  it,"  his  friend  reiterated,  none  too 
confidently.  "  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  made  me 
resign  from  the  vestry  and  forced  me  to  sell  my  interest. 
It  nets  me  five  thousand  a  year." 

"  What  is  the  place  ?  "  Laugmaid  asked  sympathetically, 
"  Harrod's  ?  " 

Mr.  Plimpton  nodded. 

"  Not  that  I  am  a  patron,"  the  lawyer  explained  some 
what  hastily.  "  But  I've  seen  the  building,  going  home. 
It  looks  to  me  as  if  it  would  burn  down  some  day,  Wallis." 

"  I  wish  it  would,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton. 

"  If  it's  any  comfort  to  you  —  to  us,"  Langmaid  went 
on,  after  a  moment,  "  Eldon  Parr  owns  the  whole  block 
above  Thirteenth,  on  the  south  side — bought  it  three 
years  ago.  He  thinks  the  business  section  will  grow  that 
way." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  and  they  looked  at  each 
other. 

The  name  predominant  in  both  minds  had  been  men 
tioned. 

"  I  wonder  if  Hodder  really  knows  what  he's  up 
against."  Mr.  Plimpton  sometimes  took  refuge  in 
slang. 

"  Well,  after  all,  we're  not  sure  yet  that  he's  4  up  against ' 
anything,"  replied  Langmaid,  who  thought  the  time  had 
come  for  comfort.  "  It  may  all  be  a  false  alarm.  There's 
no  reason,  after  all,  why  a  Christian  clergyman  shouldn't 
rescue  women  in  Dalton  Street,  and  remain  in  the  city  to 
study  the  conditions  of  the  neighbourhood  where  his 
settlement  house  is  to  be.  And  just  because  you  or  I 
would  not  be  able  to  resist  an  invitation  to  go  yachting 
with  Eldon  Parr,  a  man  might  be  imagined  who  had  that 
amount  of  moral  courage." 

44  That's  just  it.  Hodder  seems  to  me,  now  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  just  the  kind  of  John  Brown  type  who 
wouldn't  hesitate  to  get  into  a  row  with  Eldon  Parr  if  he 
thought  it  was  right,  and  pull  down  any  amount  of  dis 
agreeable  stuff  about  our  ears." 

44  You're  mixing  your  heroes,  Wallis,"  said  Langmaid. 


MR.    GOODEICH   BECOMES   A   PARTISAN       309 

"  I  can't  help  it.  You'd  catch  it,  too,  Nelson.  What 
in  the  name  of  sense  possessed  you  to  get  such  a  man  ?  " 

This  being  a  question  the  lawyer  was  unable  to  answer, 
the  conversation  came  to  another  pause.  And  it  was  then 
that  Mr.  Plimpton's  natural  optimism  reasserted  itself. 

"  It  isn't  done,  —  the  thing  we're  afraid  of,  that's  all," 
he  proclaimed,  after  a  turn  or  two  about  the  room. 
"  Hodder's  a  gentleman,  as  I  said,  and  if  he  feels  as  we 
suspect  he  does  he'll  resign  like  a  gentleman  and  a 
Christian.  I'll  have  a  talk  with  him  —  oh,  you  can  trust 
me  !  I've  got  an  idea.  Gordon  Atterbury  told  me  the 
other  day  there  is  a  vacancy  in  a  missionary  diocese  out 
west,  and  that  Hodder's  name  had  been  mentioned,  among 
others,  to  the  bishops  for  the  place.  He'd  make  a  rattling 
missionary  bishop,  you  know,  holding  services  in  saloons 
and  knocking  men's  heads  together  for  profanity,  and 
he  boxes  like  a  professional.  Now,  a  word  from  Eldon 
Parr  might  turn  the  trick.  Every  parson  wants  to 
be  a  bishop." 

Langmaid  shook  his  head. 

"  You're  getting  out  of  your  depths,  my  friend.  The 
Church  isn't  Wall  Street.  And  missionary  bishops  aren't 
chosen  to  make  convenient  vacancies." 

"  I  don't  mean  anything  crude,"  Mr.  Plimpton  pro 
tested.  "  But  a  word  from  the  chief  layman  of  a  diocese 
like  this,  a  man  who  never  misses  a  General  Convention, 
and  does  everything  handsomely,  might  count,  —  particu 
larly  if  they're  already  thinking  of  Hodder.  The  bishops 
would  never  suspect  we  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him." 

"  Well,"  said  Langmaid,  "  I  advise  you  to  go  easy,  all 
along  the  line." 

"  Oh,  I'll  go  easy  enough,"  Mr.  Plimpton  assented, 
smiling.  "Do  you  remember  how  I  pulled  off  old 
Senator  Matthews  when  everybody  swore  he  was  dead 
set  on  voting  for  an  investigation  in  the  matter  of  those 
coal  lands  Mr.  Parr  got  hold  of  in  his  state  ?  " 

"  Matthews  isn't  Hodder,  by  a  long  shot,"  said  Lang- 
maid.  "If  you  ask  me  my  opinion,  I'll  tell  you  frankly 
that  if  Hodder  has  made  up  his  mind  to  stay  in  St.  John's 


310  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

a  ton  of  dynamite  and  all  the  Eldon  Parrs  in  the  nation 
can't  get  him  out." 

"  Can't  the  vestry  make  him  resign  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Plimp 
ton,  uncomfortably. 

"  You'd  better  go  home  and  study  your  canons,  my 
friend.  Nothing  short  of  conviction  for  heresy  can  do  it, 
if  he  doesn't  want  to  go." 

"  You  wouldn't  exactly  call  him  a  heretic,"  Mr.  Plimp 
ton  said  ruefully. 

"  Would  you  know  a  heretic  if  you  saw  one  ? " 
demanded  Langmaid. 

"  No,  but  my  wife  would,  and  Gordon  Atterbury  and 
Constable  would,  and  Eldon  Parr.  But  don't  let's  get 
nervous." 

"  Well,  that's  sensible  at  any  rate,"  said  Langmaid.  .  .  . 

So  Mr.  Plimpton  had  gone  off  optimistic,  and  felt  even 
more  so  the  next  morning  after  lie  had  had  his  breakfast 
in  the  pleasant  dining  room  of  the  Gore  Mansion,  of 
which  he  was  now  master.  As  he  looked  out  through  the 
open  window  at  the  sunshine  in  the  foliage  of  Waverley 
Place,  the  prospect  of  his  being  removed  from  that  position 
of  dignity  and  influence  on  the  vestry  of  St.  John's,  which 
he  had  achieved,  with  others,  after  so  much  walking 
around  the  walls,  seemed  remote.  And  he  reflected  with 
satisfaction  upon  the  fact  that  his  wife,  who  was  his  prime 
minister,  would  be  home  from  the  East  that  day.  Two 
heads  were  better  than  one,  especially  if  one  of  the  two 
were  Charlotte  Gore's.  And  Mr.  Plimpton  had  often 
reflected  upon  the  loss  to  the  world,  and  the  gain  to  him 
self,  that  she  was  a  woman. 

It  would  not  be  gallant  to  suggest  that  his  swans  were 
geese. 

IV 

The  successful  navigation  of  lower  Tower  Street,  at 
noonday,  required  presence  of  mind  on  the  part  of  the 
pedestrian.  There  were  currents  and  counter-currents, 
eddies  and  backwaters,  and  at  the  corner  of  Vine  a 


ME.   GOODKICH   BECOMES   A  PARTISAN       311 

veritable  maelstrom  through  which  two  lines  of  electric 
cars  pushed  their  way,  east  and  west,  north  and  south, 
with  incessant  clanging  of  bells  ;  followed  by  automobiles 
with  resounding  horns,  trucks  and  delivery  wagons  with 
wheels  reverberating  on  the  granite.  A  giant  Irish  police 
man,  who  seemed  in  continual  danger  of  a  violent  death, 
and  wholly  indifferent  to  it,  stood  between  the  car  tracks 
and  halted  the  rush  from  time  to  time,  driving  the  people 
like  sheep  from  one  side  to  the  other.  Through  the  doors 
of  Ferguson's  poured  two  conflicting  streams  of  humanity, 
and  wistful  groups  of  young  women,  on  the  way  from 
hasty  lunches,  blocked  the  pavements  and  stared  at  the 
finery  behind  the  plate-glass  windows. 

The  rector,  slowly  making  his  way  westward,  permitted 
himself  to  be  thrust  hither  and  thither,  halted  and  shoved 
on  again  as  he  studied  the  faces  of  the  throng.  And 
presently  he  found  himself  pocketed  before  one  of  the 
exhibits  of  feminine  interest,  momentarily  helpless,  listen 
ing  to  the  admiring  and  envious  chorus  of  a  bevy  of 
diminutive  shop-girls  on  the  merits  of  a  Paris  gown.  It 
was  at  this  moment  that  he  perceived,  pushing  towards 
him  with  an  air  of  rescue,  the  figure  of  his  vestryman, 
Mr.  Wallis  Plimpton. 

"  Well,  well,  well!  "  he  cried,  as  he  seized  Hodder  by  the 
arm  and  pulled  him  towards  the  curb.  "  What  are  you 
doing  here  in  the  marts  of  trade  ?  Come  right  along  with 
me  to  the  Eyrie,  and  we'll  have  something  to  eat." 

The  Eyrie  was  a  famous  lunch  club,  of  limited  member 
ship,  at  the  top  of  the  Parr  Building,  where  financial 
affairs  of  the  first  importance  were  discussed  and  settled. 

Hodder  explained  that  he  had  lunched  at  half-past 
twelve. 

"  Well,  step  into  my  office  a  minute.  It  does  me  good 
to  see  you  again,  upon  my  word,  and  I  can't  let  you  get 
by  without  a  little  pow-wow." 

Mr.  Plimpton's  trust  company,  in  Vine  Street,  resembled 
a  Greek  temple.  Massive  but  graceful  granite  columns 
adorned  its  front,  while  within  it  was  partitioned  off  with 
polished  marble  and  ornamental  grills.  In  the  rear, 


312  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

guarded  by  the  desks  and  flanked  by  the  compartments 
of  various  subordinates,  was  the  president's  private  sanc 
tum,  and  into  this  holy  of  holies  Mr.  Plimpton  led  the 
way  with  the  simple,  unassuming  genial  air  of  the  high 
priest  of  modern  finance  who  understands  men.  The  room 
was  eloquent  almost  to  affectation  of  the  system  and  order 
of  great  business,  inasmuch  as  it  betrayed  not  the  least 
sign  of  a  workshop.  On  the  dark  oak  desk  were  two 
leather-bound  books  and  a  polished  telephone.  The  walls 
were  panelled,  there  was  a  stone  fireplace  with  andirons 
set,  a  deep  carpet  spread  over  the  tessellated  floor,  and 
three  leather-padded  armchairs,  one  of  which  Mr.  Plimpton 
hospitably  drew  forward  for  the  rector.  He  then  pro 
duced  a  box  of  cigars. 

"You  don't  smoke,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  always  forget. 
That's  the  way  you  manage  to  keep  yourself  in  such 
good  shape."  He  drew  out  a  gold  match  box  and  seated 
himself  with  an  air  of  gusto  opposite  his  guest.  "  And 
you  haven't  had  a  vacation,  they  tell  me." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  the  rector,  "  McCrae  has  taken 
the  services  all  summer." 

"  But  you've  been  in  the  city !  "  Mr.  Plimpton  ex 
claimed,  puffing  at  his  cigar. 

"  Yes,  I've  been  in  the  city." 

"  Well,  well,  I'll  bet  you  haven't  been  idle.  Just  be 
tween  us,  as  friends,  Mr.  Hodder,  I've  often  wondered 
if  you  didn't  work  too  hard  —  there's  such  a  thing  as  being 
too  conscientious,  you  know.  And  I've  an  idea  that  the 
rest  of  the  vestry  think  so.  Mr.  Parr,  for  instance.  We 
know  when  we've  got  a  good  thing,  and  we  don't  want  to 
wear  you  out.  Oh,  we  can  appreciate  your  point  of  view, 
and  admire  it.  But  a  little  relaxation  —  eh?  It's  too 
bad  that  you  couldn't  have  seen  your  way  to  take  that 
cruise  —  Mr.  Parr  was  all  cut  up  about  it.  I  guess  you're 
the  only  man  among  all  of  us  fairly  close  to  him,  who 
really  knows  him  well,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  admiringly. 
"  He  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mr.  Hodder.  By  the 
way,  have  you  seen  him  since  he  got  back  ?  " 

"No,"  Hodder  answered." 


MR.   GOODRICH   BECOMES   A  PARTISAN       313 

"The  trip  did  him  good.  I  thought  he  was  a  little 
seedy  in  the  spring  —  didn't  you  ?  Wonderful  man ! 
And  when  I  think  how  he's  slandered  and  abused  it 
makes  me  hot.  And  he  never  says  anything,  never  com 
plains,  lives  up  there  all  alone,  and  takes  his  medicine. 
That's  real  patriotism,  according  to  my  view.  He  could 
retire  to-morrow  —  but  he  keeps  on  —  why?  Because  he 
feels  the  weight  of  a  tremendous  responsibility  on  his 
shoulders,  because  he  knows  if  it  weren't  for  him  and  men 
like  him  upon  whom  the  prosperity  of  this  nation  depends, 
we'd  have  famine  and  anarchy  on  our  hands  in  no  time. 
And  look  what  he's  done  for  the  city,  without  ostentation, 
mind  you!  He  never  blows  his  own  horn  —  never  makes 
a  speech.  And  for  the  Church !  But  I  needn't  tell  you. 
When  this  settlement  house  and  chapel  are  finished,  they'll 
be  coming  out  here  from  New  York  to  get  points.  By 
the  way,  I  meant  to  have  written  you.  Have  our  revised 
plans  come  yet  ?  We  ought  to  break  ground  in  November, 
oughtn't  we?  " 

"  I  intend  to  lay  my  views  on  that  matter  before  the 
vestry  at  the  next  meeting,"  the  rector  said. 

"  Well,"  declared  Mr.  Plimpton,  after  a  scarcely  per 
ceptible  pause,  "I've  no  doubt  they'll  be  worth  listening 
to.  If  I  were  to  make  a  guess,"  he  continued,  with  a 
contemplative  smile,  blowing  a  thin  stream  of  smoke 
towards  the  distant  ceiling,  "  I  should  bet  that  you  have 
spent  your  summer  looking  over  the  ground.  I  don't  say 
that  you  have  missed  your  vocation,  Mr.  Hodder,  but  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  for  a  clergyman,  for  a  man 
absorbed  in  spiritual  matters,  a  man  who  can  preach  the 
sermons  you  preach,  you've  got  more  common-sense  and 
business  thoroughness  than  any  one  I  have  ever  run  across 
in  your  profession." 

"Looking  over  the  ground?"  Hodder  repeated,  ignor 
ing  the  compliment. 

"  Sure,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  smiling  more  benignly  than 
ever.  "  You  mustn't  be  modest  about  it.  Dalton  Street. 
And  when  that  settlement  house  is  built,  I'll  guarantee  it 
will  be  run  on  a  business  basis.  No  nonsense." 


314  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  nonsense  ? "  Hodder  asked. 
He  did  not  make  the  question  abrupt,  and  there  was  even 
the  hint  of  a  smile  in  his  eyes,  which  Mr.  Plimpton  found 
the  more  disquieting. 

"Why,  that's  only  a  form  of  speech.  I  mean  you'll 
be  practical,  efficient,  that  you'll  get  hold  of  the  people  of 
that  neighbourhood  and  make  'em  see  that  the  world  isn't 
such  a  bad  place  after  all,  make  'em  realize  that  we  in 
St.  John's  want  to  help  'em  out.  That  you  won't  make 
them  more  foolishly  discontented  than  they  are,  and  go 
preaching  socialism  to  them." 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  preaching  socialism,"  said 
Hodder.  But  he  laid  a  slight  emphasis  on  the  word 
which  sent  a  cold  shiver  down  Mr.  Plimpton's  spine,  and 
made  him  wonder  whether  there  might  not  be  something 
worse  than  socialism. 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't,"  he  declared,  with  all  the  hearti 
ness  he  could  throw  into  his  voice.  "  I  repeat,  you're  a 
practical,  sensible  man.  I'll  yield  to  none  in  my  belief  in 
the  Church  as  a  moral,  uplifting,  necessary  spiritual  force 
in  our  civilization,  in  my  recognition  of  her  high  ideals, 
but  we  business  men,  Mr.  Hodder,  —  as  I  am  sure  you 
must  agree,  —  have  got  to  live,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  on  a 
lower  plane.  We've  got  to  deal  with  the  world  as  we  find 
it,  and  do  our  little  best  to  help  things  along.  We  can't 
take  the  Gospel  literally,  or  we  should  all  be  ruined  in  a 
day,  and  swamp  everybody  else.  You  understand  me  ?  " 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  the  rector. 

Mr.  Plimpton's  cigar  had  gone  out.  In  spite  of  him 
self,  he  had  slipped  from  the  easy-going,  casual  tone  into 
one  that  was  becoming  persuasive,  apologetic,  strenuous. 
Although  the  day  was  not  particularly  warm,  he  began  to 
perspire  a  little ;  and  he  repeated  the  words  over  to  him 
self,  "I  understand  you."  What  the  deuce  did  the  rector 
know  ?  He  had  somehow  the  air  of  knowing  everything,  — 
more  than  Mr.  Plimpton  did.  And  Mr.  Plimpton  was 
beginning  to  have  the  unusual  and  most  disagreeable  feel 
ing  of  having  been  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting.  He  glanced  at  his  guest,  who  sat  quite  still, 


ME.   GOODRICH   BECOMES  A  PARTISAN      315 

the  head  bent  a  trifle,  the  disturbing  gray  eyes  fixed  con 
templatively  on  him  —  accusingly.  And  yet  the  accusa 
tion  did  not  seem  personal  with  the  clergyman,  whose  eyes 
were  apparently  the  medium,  the  channels  of  a  greater,  an 
impersonal  justice.  It  was  true  that  the  man  had 
changed.  He  was  wholly  baffling  to  Mr.  Plimpton,  whose 
sense  of  alarm  increased  momentarily  into  an  almost  pan 
icky  feeling  as  he  remembered  what  Langmaid  had  said. 
Was  this  inscrutable  rector  of  St.  John's  gazing,  know 
ingly,  at  the  half  owner  of  Harrod's  Hotel  in  Dalton  Street, 
who  couldn't  take  the  Gospel  literally  ?  There  was,  evi 
dently,  no  way  to  find  out  at  once,  and  suspense  would  be 
unbearable.  In  vain  he  told  himself  that  these  thoughts 
were  nonsense,  the  discomfort  persisted,  and  he  had  visions 
of  that  career  in  which  he  had  become  one  of  the  first  citi 
zens  and  the  respected  husband  of  Charlotte  Gore  crash 
ing  down  about  his  ears.  Why  ?  Because  a  clergyman 
should  choose  to  be  quixotic,  fanatical  ?  He  did  not  look 
quixotic,  fanatical,  —  Mr.  Plimpton  had  to  admit,  —  but  a 
good  deal  saner  than  he,  Mr.  Plimpton,  must  have  ap 
peared  at  that  moment.  His  throat  was  dry,  and  he 
didn't  even  dare  to  make  the  attempt  to  relight  his  cigar. 

"There's  nothing  like  getting  together  —  keeping  in 
touch  with  people,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  managed  to  say. 
"  I've  been  out  of  town  a  good  deal  this  summer  —  putting 
on  a  little  flesh,  I'm  sorry  to  admit.  But  I've  been  mean 
ing  to  drop  into  the  parish  house  and  talk  over  those  revised 
plans  with  you.  I  will  drop  in  —  in  a  day  or  two.  I'm 
interested  in  the  work,  intensely  interested,  and  so  is  Mrs. 
Plimpton.  She'll  help  you.  I'm  sorry  you  can't  lunch 
with  me." 

He  had  the  air,  now,  of  the  man  who  finds  himself  dis 
agreeably  and  unexpectedly  closeted  with  a  lunatic  ;  and 
his  language,  although  he  sought  to  control  it,  became 
even  a  trifle  less  coherent. 

"  You  must  make  allowances  for  us  business  men,  Mr. 
Hodder.  I  mean,  of  course,  we're  sometimes  a  little  lax 
in  our  duties  —  in  the  summer,  that  is.  Don't  shoot  the 
pianist,  he's  doing  his  —  ahem  I  You  know  the  story. 


316  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

By  the  way,  I  hear  great  things  of  you  ,•  I'm  told  it's  on 
the  cards  that  you're  to  be  made  a  bishop." 

"  Oh,"  answered  the  rector,  "  there  are  better  men 
mentioned  than  I." 

"  I  want  you  to  know  this,"  said  his  vestryman,  as  he 
seized  Hodder's  hand,  "much  as  we  value  you  here,  bit 
terly  as  we  should  hate  to  lose  you,  none  of  us,  I  am  sure, 
would  stand  in  the  way  of  such  a  deserved  advancement." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Plimpton,"  said  the  rector. 

Mr.  Plimpton  watched  the  vigorous  form  striding 
through  the  great  chamber  until  it  disappeared.  Then  he 
seized  his  hat  and  made  his  way  as  rapidly  as  possible 
through  the  crowds  to  the  Parr  Building.  At  the  en 
trance  of  the  open-air  roof  garden  of  the  Eyrie  he  ran  into 
Nelson  Langmaid. 

"  You're  the  very  man  I'm  after,"  said  Mr.  Plimpton, 
breathlessly.  "I  stopped  in  your  office,  and  they  said 
you'd  gone  up." 

"  What's  the  matter,  Wallis  ? "  inquired  the  lawyer, 
tranquilly.  "  You  look  as  if  you'd  lost  a  couple  of 
bonds." 

"I've  just  seen  Hodder,  and  he  is  going  to  do  it." 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"  Sit  down  here,  at  this  table  in  the  corner,  and  I'll  tell 
you." 

For  a  practical  man,  it  must  be  admitted  that  Mr. 
Plimpton  had  very  little  of  the  concrete  to  relate.  And 
it  appeared  on  cross-examination  by  Mr.  Langmaid, — 
who  ate  his  cold  meat  and  salad  with  an  exasperating  and 
undiminished  appetite  —  that  the  only  definite  thing  the 
rector  had  said  was  that  he  didn't  intend  to  preach  social 
ism.  This  was  reassuring. 

"  Reassuring  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Plimpton,  whose  cus 
tomary  noonday  hunger  was  lacking,  "  I  wish  you  could 
have  heard  him  say  it  !  " 

"The  wicked,"  remarked  the  lawyer,  "flee  when  no 
man  pursueth.  Don't  shoot  the  pianist  ! "  Langmaid 
set  down  his  beer,  and  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 
u  If  I  were  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hodder,  after  such  an  exhibi- 


MB,.   GOODRICH  BECOMES   A  PARTISAN       317 

tion  as  you  gave,  I  should  immediately  have  suspected 
the  pianist  of  something,  and  I  should  have  gone  off  by 
myself  and  racked  my  brains  and  tried  to  discover  what 
it  was.  He's  a  clever  man,  and  if  he  hasn't  got  a  list  of 
Dalton  Street  property  now  he'll  have  one  by  to-morrow, 
and  the  story  of  some  of  your  transactions  with  Tom 
Beatty  and  the  City  Council." 

"  I  believe  you'd  joke  in  the  electric  chair,"  said  Mr. 
Plimpton,  resentfully.  "I'll  tell  you  this,  —  and  my 
experience  backs  me  up,  —  if  you  can't  get  next  to  a  man 
by  a  little  plain  talk,  he  isn't  safe.  I  haven't  got  the 
market  sense  for  nothing,  and  I'll  give  you  this  tip,  Nel 
son,  —  it's  time  to  stand  from  under.  Didn't  I  warn  you 
fellows  that  Bedloe  Hubbell  meant  business  long  before 
he  started  in  ?  and  this  parson  can  give  Hubbell  cards 
and  spades.  Hodder  can't  see  this  thing  as  it  is.  He's 
been  thinking,  this  summer.  And  a  man  of  that  kind  is 
downright  dangerous  when  he  begins  to  think.  He's 
found  out  things,  and  he's  put  two  and  two  together,  and 
he's  the  uncompromising  type.  He  has  a  notion  that  the 
Gospel  can  be  taken  literally,  and  I  could  feel  all  the  time 
I  was  talking  to  him  he  thought  I  was  a  crook." 

"  Perhaps  he  was  right,"  observed  the  lawyer. 

"  That  comes  well  from  you,"  Mr.  Plimpton  retorted. 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  crook,  too,"  said  Langmaid.  "  I  discovered 
it  some  time  ago.  The  difference  between  you  and  me, 
Wallis,  is  that  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge  it,  and  you're 
not.  The  whole  business  world,  as  we  know  it,  is  crooked, 
and  if  we  don't  cut  other  people's  throats,  they'll  cut 
ours." 

"  And  if  we  let  go,  what  would  happen  to  the  country  ?  " 
his  companion  demanded. 

Langmaid  began  to  shake  with  silent  laughter. 

"  Your  solicitude  about  the  country,  Wallis,  is  touching. 
I  was  brought  up  to  believe  that  patriotism  had  an  ele 
ment  of  sacrifice  in  it,  but  I  can't  see  ours.  And  I  can't 
imagine  myself,  somehow,  as  a  Hercules  bearing  the 
burden  of  our  Constitution.  From  Mr.  Hodder's  point 
of  view,  perhaps,  —  and  I'm  not  sure  it  isn't  the  right  one,  — 


318  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  pianist  is  doing  his  damnedest,  to  the  tune  of  —  Dalton 
Street.  We  might  as  well  look  this  thing  in  the  face,  my 
friend.  You  and  I  really  don't  believe  in  another  world, 
or  we  shouldn't  be  taking  so  much  trouble  to  make  this 
one  as  we'd  like  to  have  it." 

"  I  never  expected  to  hear  you  talk  this  way,"  said  Mr. 
Plimpton. 

"  Well,  it's  somewhat  of  a  surprise  to  me,"  the  lawyer 
admitted. 

"  And  I  don't  think  you  put  it  fairly,"  his  friend  con- 
*  tended.  "  I  never  can  tell  when  you  are  serious,  but  this 
is  damned  serious.  In  business  we  have  to  deal  with 
crooks,  who  hold  us  up  right  and  left,  and  if  we  stood 
back  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  everything  would  go 
to  pot.  And  if  we  let  the  reformers  have  their  way  the 
country  would  be  bedlam.  We'd  have  anarchy  and  blood 
shed,  revolution,  and  the  people  would  be  calling  us,  the 
strong  men,  back  in  no  time.  You  can't  change  human 
nature.  And  we  have  a  sense  of  responsibility — we  sup 
port  law  and  order  and  the  Church,  and  found  institu 
tions,  and  give  millions  away  in  charity." 

The  big  lawyer  listened  to  this  somewhat  fervent  de 
fence  of  his  order  with  an  amused  smile,  nodding  his  head 
slightly  from  side  to  side. 

"  If  you  don't  believe  in  it,"  demanded  Mr.  Plimpton, 
"  why  the  deuce  don't  you  drop  it  ?  " 

"It's  because  of  my  loyalty,"  said  Langmaid.  "I 
wouldn't  desert  my  pals.  I  couldn't  bear,  Wallis,  to  see 
you  go  to  the  guillotine  without  me." 

Mr.  Plimpton  became  unpleasantly  silent. 

"  Well,  you  may  think  it's  a  joke,"  he  resumed,  after  a 
moment,  "  but  there  will  be  a  guillotine  if  we  don't  look 
out.  That  confounded  parson  is  getting  ready  to  spring 
something,  and  I'm  going  to  give  Mr.  Parr  a  tip.  He'll 
know  how  to  handle  him.  He  doesn't  talk  much,  but 
I've  got  an  idea,  from  one  or  two  things  he  let  drop,  that 
he's  a  little  suspicious  of  a  change  in  Hodder.  But  he 
ought  to  be  warned." 

"  You're  in  no  condition  to  talk  to  Mr.  Parr,  or  to  any 


MR.   GOODRICH   BECOMES  A  PARTISAN       319 

one  else,  except  your  wife,  Wallis,"  Langmaid  said. 
"  You'd  better  go  home,  and  let  me  see  Mr.  Parr.  I'm 
responsible  for  Mr.  Hodder,  anyway." 

"  All  right,"  Mr.  Plimpton  agreed,  as  though  he  had 
gained  some  shred  of  comfort  from  this  thought.  "  I 
guess  you're  in  worse  than  any  of  us." 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE   ARRAIGNMENT 


LOOKING  backward,  Hodder  perceived  that  he  had 
really  come  to  the  momentous  decision  of  remaining  at 
St.  John's  in  the  twilight  of  an  evening  when,  on  returning 
home  from  seeing  Kate  Marcy  at  Mr.  Bentley's  he  had 
entered  the  darkening  church.  It  was  then  that  his 
mission  had  appeared  to  him  as  a  vision.  Every  day, 
afterward,  his  sense  and  knowledge  of  this  mission  had 
grown  stronger. 

To  his  mind,  not  the  least  of  the  trials  it  was  to  impose 
upon  him,  and  one  which  would  have  to  be  dealt  with 
shortly,  was  a  necessary  talk  with  his  assistant,  McCrae. 
If  their  relationship  had  from  the  beginning  been  unusual 
and  unsatisfactory,  adjectives  would  seem  to  defy  what 
it  had  become  during  the  summer.  What  did  McCrae 
think  of  him  ?  For  Hodder  had,  it  will  be  recalled, 
bidden  his  assistant  good-by — and  then  had  remained. 
At  another  brief  interview,  during  which  McCrae  had 
betrayed  no  surprise,  uttered  no  censure  or  comment, 
Hodder  had  announced  his  determination  to  remain  in  the 
city,  and  to  take  no  part  in  the  services.  An  announce 
ment  sufficiently  astounding.  During  the  months  that 
followed,  they  had  met,  at  rare  intervals,  exchanged  casual 
greetings,  and  passed  on.  And  yet  Hodder  had  the 
feeling,  more  firmly  planted  than  ever,  that  McCrae  was 
awaiting,  with  an  interest  which  might  be  called  suspense, 
the  culmination  of  the  process  going  on  within  him. 

Well,  now  that  he  had  worked  it  out,  now  that  he  had 
reached  his  decision,  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  to  tell 


THE   ARKAIGNMENT  321 

his  assistant  what  that  decision  was.  Hodder  shrank 
from  it  as  from  an  ordeal.  His  affection  for  the  man, 
his  admiration  for  McCrae's  faithful,  untiring-,  and  un 
recognized  services  had  deepened.  He  had  a  theory  that 
McCrae  really  liked  him  —  would  even  sympathize  with 
his  solution;  yet  he  procrastinated.  He  was  afraid  to  put 
his  theory  to  the  test.  It  was  not  that  Hodder  feared 
that  his  own  solution  was  not  the  right  one,  but  that 
McCrae  might  not  find  it  so:  he  was  intensely  concerned 
that  it  should  also  he  McCrae's  solution,  —  the  answer,  if 
one  liked,  to  McCrae's  mute  and  eternal  questionings. 
He  wished  to  have  it  a  fruition  for  McCrae  as  well  as  for 
himself;  since  theoretically,  at  least,  he  had  pierced  the 
hard  crust  of  his  assistant's  exterior,  and  conceived  him 
beneath  to  be  all  suppressed  fire.  In  short,  Hodder  wished 
to  go  into  battle  side  by  side  with  McCrae.  Therein  lay 
his  anxiety. 

Another  consideration  troubled  him  —  McCrae's  family, 
dependent  on  a  rather  meagre  salary.  His  assistant,  in 
sustaining  him  in  the  struggle  he  meant  to  enter,  would 
be  making  even  a  greater  sacrifice  than  himself.  For 
Hodder  had  no  illusions,  and  knew  that  the  odds  against 
him  were  incalculable.  Whatever,  if  defeated,  his  own 
future  might  be,  McCrae's  was  still  more  problematical 
and  tragic. 

The  situation,  when  it  came,  was  even  more  difficult 
than  Hodder  had  imagined  it,  since  McCrae  was  not  a 
man  to  oil  the  wheels  of  conversation.  In  silence  he  fol 
lowed  the  rector  up  the  stairs  and  into  his  study,  in 
silence  he  took  the  seat  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 
And  Hodder,  as  he  hesitated  over  his  opening,  contem 
plated  in  no  little  perplexity  and  travail  the  gaunt  and 
non-committal  face  before  him. 

"McCrae,"  he  began  at  length,  "you  must  have 
thought  my  conduct  this  summer  most  peculiar.  I  wish 
to  thank  you,  first  of  all,  for  the  consideration  you  have 
shown  me,  and  to  tell  you  how  deeply  I  appreciate  your 
taking  the  entire  burden  of  the  work  of  the  parish.'* 

McCrae  shook  his  head  vigorously,  but  did  not  speak. 


322  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

"  I  owe  it  to  you  to  give  you  some  clew  to  what 
happened  to  me,"  the  rector  continued,  "  although  I  have 
an  idea  that  you  do  not  need  much  enlightenment  on  this 
matter.  I  have  a  feeling  that  you  have  somehow  been 
aware  of  my  discouragement  during  the  past  year  or  so, 
and  of  the  causes  of  it.  You  yourself  hold  ideals  con 
cerning  the  Church  which  you  have  not  confided  to  me. 
Of  this  I  am  sure.  I  came  here  to  St.  John's  full  of  hope 
and  confidence,  gradually  to  lose  both,  gradually  to 
realize  that  there  was  something  wrong  with  me,  that  in 
spite  of  all  my  efforts  I  was  unable  to  make  any  headway 
in  the  right  direction.  I  became  perplexed,  dissatisfied  — 
the  results  were  so  meagre,  so  out  of  proportion  to  the 
labour.  And  the  very  fact  that  those  who  may  be  called 
our  chief  parishioners  had  no  complaint  merely  added  to 
my  uneasiness.  That  kind  of  success  didn't  satisfy  me, 
and  I  venture  to  assume  it  didn't  satisfy  you." 

Still  McCrae  made  no  sign. 

"  Finally  I  came  to  what  may  be  termed  a  double  con 
clusion.  In  the  first  place,  I  began  to  see  more  and  more 
clearly  that  our  modern  civilization  is  at  fault,  to  perceive 
how  completely  it  is  conducted  on  the  materialistic  theory 
of  the  survival  of  the  fittest  rather  than  that  of  the  brother 
hood  of  man,  and  that  those  who  mainly  support  this  church 
are,  consciously  or  not,  using  it  as  a  bulwark  for  the  priv 
ilege  they  have  gained  at  the  expense  of  their  fellow- 
citizens.  And  my  second  conclusion  was  that  Christianity 
must  contain  some  vital  germ  which  I  had  somehow  missed, 
and  which  I  must  find  if  I  could,  and  preach  and  release 
it.  That  it  was  the  release  of  this  germ  these  people 
feared  unconsciously.  I  say  to  you,  at  the  risk  of  the 
accusation  of  conceit,  that  I  believed  myself  to  have  a 
power  in  the  pulpit  if  I  could  only  discover  the  truth." 

Hodder  thought  he  detected,  as  he  spoke  these  words, 
a  certain  relaxation  of  the  tension. 

"  For  a  while,  as  the  result  of  discouragement,  of 
cowardice,  I  may  say,  of  the  tearing-down  process  of  the 
theological  structure  —  built  of  debris  from  many  ruins  — 
on  which  my  conception  of  Christianity  rested,  I  lost  all 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  323 

faith.  For  many  weeks  I  did  not  enter  the  church,  as 
you  yourself  must  know.  Then,  when  I  had  given  up  all 
hope,  through  certain  incidents  and  certain  persons,  a 
process  of  reconstruction  began.  In  short,  through  no 
virtue  which  I  can  claim  as  my  own,  I  believe  I  have 
arrived  at  the  threshold  of  an  understanding  of  Christian 
ity  as  Our  Lord  taught  it  and  lived  it.  And  I  intend 
to  take  the  pulpit  and  begin  to  preach  it. 

"  I  am  deeply  concerned  in  regard  to  yourself,  as  to 
what  effect  my  course  may  have  on  you.  And  I  am  not 
asking  you  to  listen  to  me  with  a  view  that  you  should 
see  your  way  clear  to  support  me,  McCrae,  but  rather  that 
you  should  be  fully  apprised  of  my  new  belief  and  in 
tentions.  I  owe  this  to  you,  for  your  loyal  support  in  the 
past.  I  shall  go  over  with  you,  later,  if  you  care  to  listen, 
my  whole  position.  It  may  be  called  the  extreme 
Protestant  position,  and  I  use  protestant,  for  want  of  a 
better  word,  to  express  what  I  believe  is  Paul's  true  as 
distinguished  from  the  false  of  his  two  inconsistent 
theologies.  It  was  this  doctrine  of  Paul's  of  redemption 
by  faith,  of  reacting  grace  by  an  inevitable  spiritual  law  — 
of  rebirth,  if  you  will  —  that  Luther  and  the  Protestant 
reformers  revived  and  recognized,  rightly,  as  the  vital 
element  of  Christ's  teachings,  although  they  did  not 
succeed  in  separating  it  wholly  from  the  dross  which 
clung  to  it.  It  is  the  leaven  which  has  changed  govern 
ments,  and  which  in  the  end,  I  am  firmly  convinced,  will 
make  true  democracy  inevitable.  And  those  who  oppose 
democracy  inherently  dread  its  workings. 

"  I  do  not  know  your  views,  but  it  is  only  fair  to  add 
at  this  time  that  I  no  longer  believe  in  the  external  and 
imposed  authority  of  the  Church  in  the  sense  in  which  I 
formerly  accepted  it,  nor  in  the  virgin  birth,  nor  in 
certain  other  dogmas  in  which  I  once  acquiesced.  Other 
clergymen  of  our  communion  have  proclaimed,  in  speech 
and  writing,  their  disbelief  in  these  things.  I  have  satis 
fied  my  conscience  as  they  have,  and  I  mean  to  make  no 
secret  of  my  change.  I  am  convinced  that  not  one  man 
or  woman  in  ten  thousand  to-day  who  has  rejected  Chris- 


324  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

tianity  ever  knew  what  Christianity  is.  The  science  and 
archaic  philosophy  in  which  Christianity  has  been  swad 
dled  and  hampered  is  discredited,  and  the  conclusion  is 
drawn  that  Christianity  itself  must  be  discredited." 

"  Ye're  going  to  preach  all  this  ?  "  McCrae  demanded, 
almost  fiercely. 

44  Yes,"  Hodder  replied,  still  uncertain  as  to  his  assist 
ant's  attitude,  44  and  more.  I  have  fully  reflected,  and  I 
am  willing  to  accept  all  the  consequences.  I  understand 
perfectly,  McCrae,  that  the  promulgation  alone  of  the 
liberal  orthodoxy  of  which  I  have  spoken  will  bring  me 
into  conflict  with  the  majority  of  the  vestry  and  the  con 
gregation,  and  that  the  bishop  will  be  appealed  to.  They 
will  say,  in  effect,  that  I  have  cheated  them,  that  they 
hired  one  man  and  that  another  has  turned  up,  whom 
they  never  would  have  hired.  But  that  won't  be  the 
whole  story.  If  it  were  merely  a  question  of  doctrine,  I 
should  resign.  It's  deeper  than  that,  more  sinister." 
Hodder  doubled  up  his  hand,  and  laid  it  on  the  table. 
44  It's  a  matter,"  he  said,  looking  into  McCrae's  eyes,  u  of 
freeing  this  church  from  those  who  now  hold  it  in  chains. 
And  the  two  questions,  I  see  clearly  now,  the  doctrinal 
and  the  economic,  are  so  interwoven  as  to  be  inseparable. 
My  former,  ancient  presentation  of  Christianity  left  men 
and  women  cold.  It  did  not  draw  them  into  this  church 
and  send  them  out  again  fired  with  the  determination  to 
bring  religion  into  everyday  life,  resolved  to  do  their 
part  in  the  removal  of  the  injustices  arid  cruelties  with 
which  we  are  surrounded,  to  bring  Christianity  into 
government,  where  it  belongs.  Don't  misunderstand  me 
—  I'm  not  going  to  preach  politics,  but  religion." 

44 1  don't  misunderstand  ye,"  answered  McCrae.  He 
leaned  a  little  forward,  staring  at  the  rector  from  behind 
his  steel  spectacles  with  a  glance  which  had  become 
piercing. 

44  And  I  am  going  to  discourage  a  charity  which  is  a 
mockery  of  Christianity,"  Hodder  went  on, 44  the  spectacle 
of  which  turns  thousands  of  men  and  women  in  sickening 
revolt  against  the  Church  of  Christ  to-day.  I  have  dis- 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  325 

covered,  at  last,  how  some  of  these  persons  have  made 
their  money,  and  ?,re  making  it.  And  I  am  going  to  let 
them  know,  since  they  have  repudiated  God  in  their  own 
souls,  since  they  have  denied  the  Christian  principle  of 
individual  responsibility,  that  I,  as  the  vicar  of  God,  will 
not  be  a  party  to  the  transaction  of  usin'g-  the  Church  as  a 
means  of  doling  out  ill-gotten  gains  to  the  poor." 

"Mr.  Parr!"  McCrae  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  rector,  slowly,  and  with  a  touch  of  sad 
ness,  "  since  you  have  mentioned  him,  Mr.  Parr.  But  I 
need  not  say  that  this  must  go  no  farther.  I  am  in  pos 
session  of  definite  facts  in  regard  to  Mr.  Parr  which  I 
shall  present  to  him  when  he  returns." 

"  Ye'll  tell  him  to  his  face  ?" 

"It  is  the  only  way." 

McCrae  had  risen.  A  remarkable  transformation  had 
come  over  the  man,  —  he  was  reminiscent,  at  that  moment, 
of  some  Covenanter  ancestor  going  into  battle.  And  his 
voice  shook  with  excitement. 

"  Ye  may  count  on  me,  Mr.  Hoddor,"  he  cried.  "  These 
many  years  I've  waited,  these  many  years  I've  seen  what 
ye  see  now,  but  I  was  not  the  man.  Aye,  I've  watched 
ye,  since  the  day  ye  first  set  foot  in  this  church.  I  knew 
what  was  going  on  inside  of  ye,  because  it  was  just  that  I 
felt  myself.  I  hoped  —  I  prayed  ye  might  come  to  it." 

The  sight  of  this  taciturn  Scotchman,  moved  in  this 
way,  had  an  extraordinary  effect  on  Hodder  himself, 
and  his  own  emotion  was  so  inexpressibly  stirred  that 
he  kept  silence  a  moment  to  control  it.  This  proof  of 
the  truth  of  his  theory  in  rega.rd  to  McCrae  he  found 
overwhelming. 

"  But  you  said  nothing,  McCrae,"  he  began  presently. 
"  I  felt  all  along  that  you  knew  what  was  wrong  —  if  you 
had  only  spoken." 

"  I  could  not,"  said  McCrae.  "  I  give  ye  my  word  I 
tried,  but  I  just  could  not.  Many's  the  time  I  wanted  to  — 
but  I  said  to  myself,  when  I  looked  at  you,  'wait,  it  will 
come,  much  better  than  ye  ;an  say  it.'  And  ye  have 
made  me  see  more  than  I  saw,  Mr.  Hodder,  —  already  ye 


326  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

have.  Ye've  got  the  whole  thing  in  ye're  eye,  and  I  only 
had  a  part  of  it.  It's  because  ye're  the  bigger  man  of  the 
two." 

"  You  thought  I'd  come  to  it  ?  "  demanded  Hodder,  as 
though  the  full  force  of  this  insight  had  just  struck  him. 

"  Well,"  said  McCrae,  "  I  hoped.  It  seemed,  to  look  at 
ye,  ye'r  true  nature  —  what  was  by  rights  inside  of  ye. 
That's  the  best  explaining  I  can  do.  And  I  call  to  mind 
that  time  ye  spoke  about  not  making  the  men  in  the  classes 
Christians  —  that  was  what  started  me  to  thinking." 

"  And  you  asked  me,"  returned  the  rector,  "  how  wel 
come  some  of  them  would  be  in  Mr.  Parr's  pew." 

"  Ah,  it  worried  me,"  declared  the  assistant,  with  char 
acteristic  frankness,  "  to  see  how  deep  ye  were  getting  in 
with  him" 

Hodder  did  not  reply  to  this.  He  had  himself  risen, 
and  stood  looking  at  McCrae,  filled  with  a  new  thought. 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to  say  to  you  —  which 
is  very  difficult,  McCrae,  but  I  have  no  doubt  you  see  the 
matter  as  clearly  as  I  do.  In  making  this  fight,  I  have  no 
one  but  myself  to  consider.  I  am  a  single  man " 

"  Ye'll  not  need  to  go  on,"  answered  McCrae,  with  an 
odd  mixture  of  sternness  and  gentleness  in  his  voice.  "I'll 
stand  and  fall  with  ye,  Mr.  Hodder.  Before  I  ever  thought 
of  the  Church  I  learned  a  trade,  as  a  boy  in  Scotland. 
I'm  not  a  bad  carpenter.  And  if  worse  comes  to  worse, 
I've  an  idea  I  can  make  as  much  with  my  hands  as  I  make 
in  the  ministry." 

The  smile  they  exchanged  across  the  table  sealed  the 
compact  between  them. 

II 

The  electric  car  which  carried  him  to  his  appointment 
with  the  financier  shot  westward  like  a  meteor  through  the 
night.  And  now  that  the  hour  was  actually  at  hand,  it 
seemed  to  Hodder  that  he  was  absurdly  unprepared  to 
meet  it.  New  and  formidable  aspects,  hitherto  unthought 
of,  rose  in  his  mind,  and  the  figure  of  Eldon  Parr  loomed 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  327 

to  Brobdingnagian  proportions  as  he  approached  it.  In 
spite  of  his  determination,  the  life-blood  of  his  confidence 
ebbed,  a  sense  of  the  power  and  might  of  the  man  who  had 
now  become  his  adversary  increased;  and  that  apprehen 
sion  of  the  impact  of  the  great  banker's  personality,  the 
cutting  edge  with  the  vast  achievements  wedged  in  behind 
it,  each  adding  weight  and  impetus  to  its  momentum  — 
the  apprehension  he  had  felt  in  less  degree  on  the  day  of 
the  first  meeting,  and  which  had  almost  immediately  evapo 
rated  —  surged  up  in  him  now.  His  fear  was  lest  the 
charged  atmosphere  of  the  banker's  presence  might  deflect 
his  own  hitherto  clear  perception  of  true  worth.  He 
dreaded,  once  in  the  midst  of  those  disturbing  currents,  a 
bungling  presentation  of  the  cause  which  inspired  him, 
and  which  he  knew  to  be  righteousness  itself. 

Suddenly  his  mood  shifted,  betraying  still  another  weak 
ness,  and  he  saw  Eldon  Parr,  suddenly,  vividly  —  more 
vividly,  indeed,  than  ever  before  —  in  the  shades  of  the 
hell  of  his  loneliness.  And  pity  welled  up,  drowning  the 
image  of  incarnate  greed  and  selfishness  and  lust  for  wealth 
and  power.  The  unique  pathos  of  his  former  relationship 
with  the  man  reasserted  itself,  and  Hodder  was  conscious 
once  more  of  the  dependence  which  Eldon  Parr  had  had 
on  his  friendship.  During  that  friendship  he,  Hodder, 
had  never  lost  the  sense  of  being  the  stronger  of  the  two, 
of  being  leaned  upon:  leaned  upon  by  a  man  whom  the 
world  feared  and  hated,  and  whom  he  had  been  unable  to 
regard  with  anything  but  compassion  and  the  unquestion 
able  affection  which  sprang  from  it.  Appalled  by  this 
transition,  he  alighted  from  the  car,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  alone  in  the  darkness  gazing  at  the  great  white 
houses  that  rose  above  the  dusky  outline  of  shrubbery  and 
trees. 

At  any  rate,  he  wouldn't  find  that  sense  of  dependence 
to-night.  And  it  steeled  him  somewhat  to  think,  as  he  re 
sumed  his  steps,  that  he  would  meet  now  the  other  side, 
the  hard  side  hitherto  always  turned  away.  Had  he 
needed  no  other  warning  of  this,  the  answer  to  his  note 
asking  for  an  appointment  would  have  been  enough,  —  a 


328  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

brief  and  formal  communication  signed  by  the  banker's 
secretary.  .  .  . 

"  Mr.  Parr  is  engaged  just  at  present,  sir,"  said  the 
servant  who  opened  the  door.  "  Would  you  be  good 
enough  to  step  into  the  library  ?  " 

Hardly  had  he  entered  the  room  when  he  heard  a  sound 
behind  him,  and  turned  to  confront  Alison.  The  thought 
of  her,  too,  had  complicated  infinitely  his  emotions  con 
cerning  the  interview  before  him,  and  the  sight  of  her 
now,  of  her  mature  beauty  displayed  in  evening  dress,  of 
her  white  throat  gleaming  whiter  against  the  severe  black 
of  her  gown,  made  him  literally  speechless.  Never  had 
he  accused  her  of  boldness,  and  now  least  of  all.  It  was 
the  quality  of  her  splendid  courage  that  was  borne  in 
upon  him  once  more  above  the  host  of  other  feelings  and 
impressions,  for  he  read  in  her  eyes  a  knowledge  of  the 
meaning  of  his  visit. 

They  stood  facing  each  other  an  appreciable  moment. 

"  Mr.  Langmaid  is  with  him  now,"  she  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

Her  eyes  still  rested  on  his  face,  questioningly,  apprais- 
ingly,  as  though  she  were  seeking  to  estimate  his  prepared 
ness  for  the  ordeal  before  him,  his  ability  to  go  through 
with  it  successfully,  triumphantly.  And  in  her  mention 
of  Langmaid  he  recognized  that  she  had  meant  to  sound  a 
note  of  warning.  She  had  intimated  a  consultation  of  the 
captains,  a  council  of  war.  And  yet  he  had  never  spoken 
to  her  of  this  visit.  This  proof  of  her  partisanship,  that 
she  had  come  to  him  at  the  crucial  instant,  overwhelmed 
him. 

"  You  know  why  I  am  here  ?  "  he  managed  to  say.  It 
had  to  do  with  the  extent  of  her  knowledge. 

"  Oh,  why  shouldn't  I  ?  "  she  cried,  "  after  what  you 
have  told  me.  And  could  you  think  I  didn't  understand, 
from  the  beginning,  that  it  meant  this  ?" 

His  agitation  still  hampered  him.  He  made  a  gesture 
of  assent. 

"  It  was  inevitable,"  he  said. 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  329 

"Yes,  it  was  inevitable,"  she  assented,  and  walked 
slowly  to  the  mantel,  resting  her  hand  on  it  and  bending 
her  head.  "  I  felt  that  you  would  not  shirk  it,  and  yet  I 
realize  how  painful  it  must  be  to  you." 

"  And  to  you,"  he  replied  quickly. 

"  Yes,  and  to  me.  I  do  not  know  what  you  know, 
specifically,  —  I  have  never  sought  to  find  out  things,  in 
detail.  That  would  be  horrid.  But  I  understand  —  in 
general  — I  have  understood  for  many  years.5'  She  raised 
her  head,  and  flashed  him  a  glance  that  was  between  a 
quivering  smile  and  tears.  "And  I  know  that  you  have 
certain  specific  information." 

He  could  only  wonder  at  her  intuition. 

"So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  is  not  for  the  world,"  he 
answered. 

"  Oh,  I  appreciate  that  in  you  I  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
wished  you  to  know  it.  I  wished  you  to  know,"  she 
added,  a  little  unsteadily,  "how  much  I  admire  you  for 
what  you  are  doing.  They  are  afraid  of  you  —  they  will 
crush  3'ou  if  they  can." 

He  did  not  reply. 

"  But  you  are  going  to  speak  the  truth,"  she  continued, 
her  voice  low  and  vibrating,  "  that  is  splendid  !  It  must 
have  its  effect,  no  matter  what  happens." 

"  Do  you  feel  that  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  a  step  toward  her. 

"Yes.     When  I  see  you,  I  feel  it,  I  think."  .  .  . 

Whatever  answer  he  might  have  made  to  this  was 
frustrated  by  the  appearance  of  the  figure  of  Nelson 
Langmaid  in  the  doorway.  He  seemed  to  survey  them 
benevolently  through  his  spectacles. 

"  How  are  you,  Hodder  ?  Well,  Alison,  I  have  to  leave 
without  seeing  anything  of  you  —  you  must  induce  your 
father  not  to  bring  his  business  home  with  him.  Just  a 
word,"  he  added  to  the  rector,  "  before  you  go  up." 

Hodder  turned  to  Alison.     "  Good  night,"  he  said. 

The  gentle  but  unmistakable  pressure  of  her  hand  he 
interpreted  as  the  pinning  on  him  of  the  badge  of  her 
faith.  He  was  to  go  into  battle  wearing  her  colours. 
Their  eyes  met. 


330  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  Good  night,"  she  answered.   .   .   . 

In  the  hall  the  lawyer  took  his  arm. 

"  What's  the  trouble,  Hodder  ?  "  he  asked,  sympathet 
ically. 

Hodder,  although  on  his  guard,  was  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  the  directness  of  the  onslaught. 

"I'm  afraid,  Mr.  Langmaid,"  the  rector  replied,  "that 
it  would  take  me  longer  to  tell  you  than  the  time  at  your 
disposal." 

"Dear  me,"  said  the  lawyer,  "this  is  too  bad.  Why 
didn't  you  come  to  me  ?  I  am  a  good  friend  of  yours, 
Hodder,  and  there  is  an  additional  bond  between  us  on  my 
sister's  account.  She  is  extremely  fond  of  you,  you  know. 
And  I  have  a  certain  feeling  of  responsibility  for  you,  —  I 
brought  you  here." 

"  You  have  always  been  very  kind,  and  I  appreciate 
it,"  Hodder  replied.  "  I  should  be  sorry  to  cause  you 
any  worry  or  annoyance.  But  you  must  understand 
that  I  cannot  share  the  responsibility  of  my  acts  with 
any  one." 

"A  little  advice  from  an  old  legal  head  is  sometimes 
not  out  of  place.  Even  Dr.  Gilman  used  to  consult  me. 
I  hope  you  will  bear  in  mind  how  remarkably  well  you 
have  been  getting  along  at  St.  John's,  and  what  a  success 
you've  made." 

"  Success  !  "  echoed  the  rector. 

Either  Mr.  Langmaid  read  nothing  in  his  face,  or  was 
determined  to  read  nothing. 

"  Assuredly,"  he  answered,  benignly.  "  You  have  man 
aged  to  please  everybody,  Mr.  Parr  included,  —  and  some 
of  us  are  not  easy  to  please.  I  thought  I'd  tell  you  this, 
as  a  friend,  as  your  first  friend  in  the  parish.  Your 
achievement  has  been  all  the  more  remarkable,  following, 
as  you  did,  Dr.  Gilman.  Now  it  would  greatly  distress 
me  to  see  that  state  of  things  disturbed,  both  for  your  sake 
and  others.  I  thought  I  would  just  give  you  a  hint,  as 
you  are  going  to  see  Mr.  Parr,  that  he  is  in  rather  a  ner 
vous  state.  These  so-called  political  reformers  have  up 
set  the  market  and  started  a  lot  of  legal  complications  — 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  331 

that's  why  I'm  here  to-night.  Go  easy  with  him.  I  know 
you  won't  do  anything  foolish." 

The  lawyer  accompanied  this  statement  with  a  pat,  but 
this  time  he  did  not  succeed  in  concealing  his  concern. 

"  That  depends  on  one's  point  of  view,"  Hodder  returned, 
with  a  smile.  "I  do  not  know  how  you  have  come  to 
suspect  that  I  am  going  to  disturb  Mr.  Parr,  but  what  I 
have  to  say  to  him  is  between  him  and  me." 

Langmaid  took  up  his  hat  from  the  table,  and  sighed. 

"  Drop  in  on  me  sometime,"  he  said,  "  I'd  like  to  talk  to 
you." 

Hodder  heard  a  voice  behind  him,  and  turned.  A  ser 
vant  was  standing  there. 

"  Mr.  Parr  is  ready  to  see  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  rector  followed  him  up  the  stairs,  to  the  room  on 
the  second  floor,  half  office,  half  study,  where  the  capitalist 
transacted  his  business  when  at  home. 

in 

Eldon  Parr  was  huddled  over  his  desk  reading  a  type 
written  document;  but  he  rose,  and  held  out  his  hand, 
which  Hodder  took. 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Hodder  ?  I'm  sorry  to  have  kept  you 
waiting,  but  matters  of  some  legal  importance  have  arisen 
on  which  I  was  obliged  to  make  a  decision.  You're  well, 
I  hope."  He  shot  a  glance  at  the  rector,  and  sat  down 
again,  still  holding  the  sheets.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me  a 
moment  longer,  I'll  finish  this." 

"  Certainly,"  Hodder  replied. 

"  Take  a  chair,"  said  Mr.  Parr,  "  you'll  find  the  evening 
paper  beside  you." 

Hodder  sat  down,  and  the  banker  resumed  his  perusal 
of  the  document,  his  eye  running  rapidly  over  the  pages, 
pausing  once  in  a  while  to  scratch  out  a  word  or  to  make 
a  note  on  the  margin.  In  the  concentration  of  the  man 
on  the  task  before  him  the  rector  read  a  design,  an  impli 
cation  that  the  affairs  of  the  Church  were  of  a  minor  im 
portance:  sensed,  indeed,  the  new  attitude  of  hostility, 


332  THE  INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

gazed  upon  the  undiscovered  side,  the  dangerous  side  be 
fore  which  other  men  had  quailed.  Alison's  words  re 
curred  to  him,  "  they  are  afraid  of  you,  they  will  crush 
you  if  they  can."  Eldon  Parr  betrayed,  at  any  rate,  no 
sign  of  fear.  If  his  mental  posture  were  further  analyzed, 
it  might  be  made  out  to  contain  an  intimation  that  the 
rector,  by  some  act,  had  forfeited  the  right  to  the  unique 
privilege  of  the  old  relationship. 

Well,  the  fact  that  the  banker  had,  in  some  apparently 
occult  manner,  been  warned,  would  make  Hodder's  task 
easier  —  or  rather  less  difficult.  His  feelings  were  even 
more  complicated  than  he  had  anticipated.  The  moments 
of  suspense  were  trying  to  his  nerves,  and  he  had  a  shrewd 
notion  that  this  making  men  wait  was  a  favourite  ma 
noeuvre  of  Eldon  Parr's ;  nor  had  he  underrated  the 
benumbing  force  of  that  personality.  It  was  evident 
that  the  financier  intended  him  to  open  the  battle,  and 
he  was  —  as  he  had  expected  —  finding  it  difficult  to 
marshal  the  regiments  of  his  arguments.  In  vain  he 
thought  of  the  tragedy  of  Garvin.  .  .  .  The  thing  was 
more  complicated.  And  behind  this  redoubtable  and 
sinister  Eldon  Parr  he  saw,  as  it  were,  the  wraith  of  that 
other  who  had  once  confessed  the  misery  of  his  lone 
liness.  .  .  . 

At  last  the  banker  rang,  sharply,  the  bell  on  his  desk. 
A  secretary  entered,  to  whom  he  dictated  a  telegram 
which  contained  these  words:  "  Langmaid  has  discovered 
a  way  out."  It  was  to  be  sent  to  an  address  in  Texas. 
Then  he  turned  in  his  chair  and  crossed  his  knees,  his 
hand  fondling  an  ivory  paper-cutter.  He  smiled  a  little. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said. 

The  rector,  intensely  on  his  guard,  merely  inclined  his 
head  in  recognition  that  his  turn  had  come. 

"  I  was  sorry,"  the  banker  continued,  after  a  percep 
tible  pause,  "that  you  could  not  see  your  way  clear  to 
have  come  with  me  on  the  cruise." 

u  I  must  thank  you  again,"  Hodder  answered,  "  but  I 
felt  —  as  I  wrote  you  —  that  certain  matters  made  it 
impossible  for  me  to  go." 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  333 

"  I  suppose  you  had  your  reasons,  but  I  think  you 
would  have  enjoyed  the  trip.  I  had  a  good,  seaworthy 
boat  —  I  chartered  her  from  Mr.  Lieber,  the  president  of 
the  Continental  Zinc,  you  know.  I  went  as  far  as  Lab 
rador.  A  wonderful  coast,  Mr.  Hodder." 

"  It  must  be,"  agreed  the  rector.  It  was  clear  that  Mr. 
Parr  intended  to  throw  upon  him  the  onus  of  the  first 
move.  There  was  a  silence,  brief,  indeed,  but  long  enough 
for  Hodder  to  feel  more  and  more  distinctly  the  granite 
hardness  which  the  other  had  become,  to  experience  a 
rising,  reenforcing  anger.  He  went  forward,  steadily  but 
resolutely,  on  the  crest  of  it.  "I  have  remained  in  the 
city,"  he  continued,  "and  I  have  had  the  opportunity  to 
discover  certain  facts  of  which  I  have  hitherto  been 
ignorant,  and  which,  in  my  opinion,  profoundly  affect  the 
welfare  of  the  church.  It  is  of  these  I  wished  to  speak 
to  you." 

Mr.  Parr  waited. 

"It  is  not  much  of  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  ever 
since  I  came  here  I  have  been  aware  that  St.  John's,  con 
sidering  the  long  standing  of  the  parish,  the  situation  of 
the  church  in  a  thickly  populated  district,  is  not  fulfilling 
its  mission.  But  I  have  failed  until  now  to  perceive 
the  causes  of  that  inefficiency." 

"  Inefficiency  ?  "     The  banker  repeated  the  word. 

" Inefficiency,"  said  Hodder.  "The  reproach,  the  re 
sponsibility  is  largely  mine,  as  the  rector,  the  spiritual 
head  of  the  parish.  I  believe  I  am  right  when  I  say  that 
the  reason  for  the  decision,  some  twenty  years  ago,  to 
leave  the  church  where  it  is,  instead  of  selling  the 
property  and  building  in  the  West  End,  was  that  it 
might  minister  to  the*  poor  in  the  neighbourhood,  to  bring 
religion  and  hope  into  their  lives,  and  to  exert  its  influ 
ence  towards  eradicating  the  vice  and  misery  which  sur 
round  it." 

"  But  I  thought  you  had  agreed,"  said  Mr.  Parr,  coldly, 
"  that  we  were  to  provide  for  that  in  the  new  chapel  and 
settlement  house." 

"  For  reasons  which  I  hope  to  make  plain  to  you,  Mr. 


334  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Parr,"  Hodder  replied,  "  those  people  can  never  be  reached, 
as  they  ought  to  be  reached,  by  building  that  settlement 
house.  The  principle  is  wrong,  the  day  is  past  when 
such  things  can  be  done  —  in  that  way"  He  laid  an 
emphasis  on  these  words.  "  It  is  good,  I  grant  you,  to 
care  for  the  babies  and  children  of  the  poor,  it  is  good 
to  get  young  women  and  men  out  of  the  dance-halls,  to 
provide  innocent  amusement,  distraction,  instruction. 
But  it  is  not  enough.  It  leaves  the  great,  transforming 
thing  in  the  lives  of  these  people  untouched,  and  it  will 
forever  remain  untouched  so  long  as  a  sense  of  wrong,  a 
continually  deepening  impression  of  an  unchristian  civili 
zation  upheld  by  the  Church  herself,  exists.  Such  an 
undertaking  as  that  settlement  house  —  I  see  clearly  now 
—  is  a  palliation,  a  poultice  applied  to  one  of  many  sores, 
a  compromise  unworthy  of  the  high  mission  of  the  Church. 
She  should  go  to  the  root  of  the  disease.  It  is  her  first 
business  to  make  Christians,  who,  by  amending  their  own 
lives,  by  going  out  individually  and  collectively  into  the 
life  of  the  nation,  will  gradually  remove  these  conditions." 

Mr.  Parr  sat  drumming  on  the  table.  Hodder  met  his 
look. 

"  So  you,  too,  have  come  to  it,"  he  said. 

"  Have  come  to  what  ?  " 

"Socialism." 

Hodder,  in  the  state  of  clairvoyance  in  which  he  now 
surprisingly  found  himself,  accurately  summed  up  the 
value  and  meaning  of  the  banker's  sigh. 

"  Say,  rather,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  have  come  to  Chris 
tianity.  We  shall  never  have  what  is  called  socialism  un 
til  there  is  no  longer  any  necessity  for  it,  until  men,  of 
their  own  free  will,  are  ready  to  renounce  selfish,  personal 
ambition  and  power  and  work  for  humanity,  for  the 
state." 

Mr.  Parr's  gesture  implied  that  he  cared  not  by  what 
name  the  thing  was  called,  but  he  still  appeared  strangely, 
astonishingly  calm;  —  Hodder,  with  all  his  faculties  acute, 
apprehended  that  he  was  dangerously  calm.  The  man  who 
had  formerly  been  his  friend  was  now  completely  oblit- 


THE   AEEAIGNMENT  335 

erated,  and  he  had  the  feeling  almost  of  being  about  to 
grapple,  in  mortal  combat,  with  some  unknown  monster 
whose  tactics  and  resources  were  infinite,  whose  victims 
had  never  escaped.  The  monster  was  in  Eldon  Parr  — 
that  is  how  it  came  to  him.  The  wary,  relentless  demon 
was  aroused.  It  behooved  him,  Hodder,  to  step  care 
fully.  .  .  . 

"  That  is  all  very  fine,  Mr.  Hodder,  very  altruistic,  very 
Christian,  I've  no  doubt  —  but  the  world  doesn't  work  that 
way."  (These  were  the  words  borne  in  on  Hodder's  con 
sciousness.)  "  What  drives  the  world  is  the  motive  fur 
nished  by  the  right  of  acquiring  and  holding  property. 
If  we  had  a  division  to-day,  the  able  men  would  come  out 
on  top  next  year." 

The  rector  shook  his  head.  He  remembered,  at  that 
moment,  Horace  Bentley. 

"  What  drives  the  world  is  a  far  higher  motive,  Mr. 
Parr,  the  motive  with  which  have  been  fired  the  great 
lights  of  history,  the  motive  of  renunciation  and  service 
which  is  transforming  governments,  which  is  gradually 
making  the  world  a  better  place  in  which  to  live.  And 
we  are  seeing  men  and  women  imbued  with  it,  rising  in 
ever  increasing  numbers  on  every  side  to-day." 

44  Service !  "  Eldon  Parr  had  seized  upon  the  word  as  it 
passed  and  held  it.  "  What  do  you  think  my  life  has 
been  ?  I  suppose,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  intense  bitter 
ness,  "  that  you,  too,  who  six  months  ago  seemed  as  reason 
able  a  man  as  I  ever  met,  have  joined  in  the  chorus  of 
denunciators.  It  has  become  the  fashion  to-day,  thanks 
to  your  socialists,  reformers,  and  agitators,  to  decry  a  man 
because  he  is  rich,  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  is  a  thief 
and  a  scoundrel,  that  he  has  no  sense  of  responsibility  for 
his  country  and  his  fellow-men.  The  glory,  the  true 
democracy  of  this  nation,  lies  in  its  equal  opportunity  for 
all.  They  take  no  account  of  that,  of  the  fact  that  each 
has  had  the  same  chance  as  his  fellows.  No,  but  they  cry 
out  that  the  man  who,  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  has 
earned  wealth  ought  to  divide  it  up  with  the  lazy  and  the 
self-indulgent  and  the  shiftless. 


336  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

44  Take  my  case,  for  instance,  —  it  is  typical  of  thou 
sands.  I  came  to  this  city  as  a  boy  in  my  teens,  with  eight 
dollars  in  my  pocket  which  I  had  earned  on  a  farm.  I 
swept  the  floor,  cleaned  the  steps,  moved  boxes  and  ran 
errands  in  Gabriel  Parker's  store  on  Third  Street.  I  was 
industrious,  sober,  willing  to  do  anything.  I  fought,  I 
tell  you,  every  inch  of  my  way.  As  soon  as  I  saved 
a  little  money  I  learned  to  use  every  ounce  of  brain 
I  possessed  to  hold  on  to  it.  I  trusted  a  man  once,  and  I 
had  to  begin  all  over  again.  And  I  discovered,  once  for 
all,  if  a  man  doesn't  look  out  for  himself,  no  one  will. 

"I  don't  pretend  that  I  am  any  better  than  any  one  else, 
I  have  had  to  take  life  as  I  found  it,  and  make  the  best  of 
it.  I  conformed  to  the  rules  of  the  game;  I  soon  had 
sense  enough  knocked  into  me  to  understand  that  the 
conditions  were  not  of  my  making.  Bat  I'll  say  this  for 
myself,"  Eldon  Parr  leaned  forward  over  the  blotter,  "  I 
had  standards,  and  I  stuck  by  them.  I  wanted  to  be  a 
decent  citizen,  to  bring  up  my  children  in  the  right  way. 
I  didn't  squander  my  money,  when  I  got  it,  on  wine  and 
women,  I  respected  other  men's  wives,  I  supported  the 
Church  and  the  institutions  of  the  city.  I  too  —  even  I  — 
had  my  ambitions,  my  ideals  —  and  they  were  not  entirely 
worldly  ones.  You  would  probably  accuse  me  of  wishing 
to  acquire  only  the  position  of  power  which  I  hold.  If 
you  had  accepted  my  invitation  to  go  aboard  the  yacht 
this  summer,  it  was  my  intention  to  unfold  to  you  a 
scheme  of  charities  which  has  long  been  forming  in  my 
mind,  and  which  I  think  would  be  of  no  small  benefit  to  the 
city  where  I  have  made  my  fortune.  I  merely  mention 
this  to  prove  to  you  that  I  am  not  unmindful,  in  spite  of 
the  circumstances  of  my  own  life,  of  the  unfortunates 
whose  mental  equipment  is  riot  equal  to  my  own." 

By  this  "  poor  boy  "  argument  which  —  if  Hodder  had 
known  —  Mr.  Parr  had  used  at  banquets  with  telling 
effect,  the  banker  seemed  to  regain  perspective  and  equilib 
rium,  to  plant  his  feet  once  more  on  the  rock  of  the  justifi 
cation  of  his  life,  and  from  which,  by  a  somewhat  extraor 
dinary  process  he  had  not  quite  understood,  he  had  been 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  337 

partially  shaken  off.  As  he  had  proceeded  with  his  per 
sonal  history,  his  manner  had  gradually  become  one  of  the 
finality  of  experience  over  theory,  of  the  forbearance  of 
the  practical  man  with  the  visionary.  Like  most  success 
ful  citizens  of  his  type,  he  possessed  in  a  high  degree  the 
faculty  of  creating  sympathy,  of  compelling  others  to 
accept  —  temporarily,  at  least  —  his  point  of  view.  It 
was  this  faculty,  Hodder  perceived,  which  had  heretofore 
laid  an  enchantment  upon  him,  and  it  was  not  without  a 
certain  wonder  that  he  now  felt  himself  to  be  released  from 
the  spell. 

The  perceptions  of  the  banker  were  as  keen,  and  his 
sense  of  security  was  brief.  Somehow,  as  he  met  the  search 
ing  eye  of  the  rector,  he  was  unable  to  see  the  man  as  a 
visionary,  but  beheld — and,  to  do  him  justice — felt  a 
twinge  of  respect  for  an  adversary  worthy  of  his  steel. 
He,  who  was  accustomed  to  prepare  for  clouds  when  they 
were  mere  specks  on  his  horizon,  paused  even  now  to 
marvel  why  he  had  not  dealt  with  this.  Here  was  a  man 

—  a  fanatic,  if  he  liked  —  but  still  a  man  who  positively 
did  not  fear  him,  to  whom  his  wrath  and  power  were  as 
nothing!     A  new  and  startling  and  complicated  sensation 

—  but  Eldon  Parr  was  no  coward.     If  he  had,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  formerly  looked  upon  the  clergyman  as 
a  dependent,  Hodder  appeared  to  be  one  no  more.     The 
very  ruggedness  of  the  man  had  enhanced,  expanded  —  as 
it  were  —  until  it  filled  the  room.     And  Hodder  had,  with 
an   audacity   unparalleled    in    the    banker's    experience, 
arraigned  by  implication  his  whole  life,  managed  to  put 
him  on  the  defensive. 

"  But  if  that  be  your  experience,"  the  rector  said,  "  and 
it  has  become  your  philosophy,  what  is  it  in  you  that  im 
pels  you  to  give  these  large  sums  for  the  public  good?" 

44 1  should  suppose  that  you,  as  a  clergyman,  might  un 
derstand  that  my  motive  is  a  Christian  one." 

Hodder  sat  very  still,  but  a  higher  light  came  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Mr.  Parr,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  been  a  friend  of  yours, 
and  I  am  a  friend  still.  And  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you 


338  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

is  not  only  in  the  hope  that  others  may  benefit,  but  that 
your  own  soul  may  be  saved.  I  mean  that  literally  —  your 
own  soul.  You  are  under  the  impression  that  you  are  a 
Christian,  but  you  are  not  and  never  have  been  one.  And 
you  will  not  be  one  until  your  whole  life  is  transformed, 
until  you  become  a  different  man.  If  you  do  not  change, 
it  is  my  duty  to  warn  you  that  the  sorrow  and  suffering, 
the  uneasiness  which  you  now  know,  and  which  drive 
you  on,  in  search  of  distraction,  to  adding  useless  sums  of 
money  to  your  fortune  —  this  suffering,  I  say,  will  become 
intensified.  You  will  die  in  the  knowledge  of  it,  and  live 
on  after,  in  the  knowledge  of  it." 

In  spite  of  himself,  the  financier  drew  back  before 
this  unexpected  blast,  the  very  intensity  of  which  had 
struck  a  chill  of  terror  in  his  inmost  being.  He  had  been 
taken  off  his  guard, — for  he  had  supposed  the  day  long  past 
—  if  it  had  ever  existed  —  when  a  spiritual  rebuke  would 
upset  him ;  the  day  long  past  when  a  minister  could  pro 
nounce  one  with  any  force.  That  the  Church  should  ever 
again  presume  to  take  herself  seriously  had  never  occurred 
to  him.  And  yet  —  the  man  had  denounced  him  in  a  mo 
ment  of  depression,  of  nervous  irritation  and  exasperation 
against  a  government  which  had  begun  to  interfere  with 
the  sacred  liberty  of  its  citizens,  against  political  agitators 
who  had  spurred  that  government  on.  The  world  was 
mad.  No  element,  it  seemed,  was  now  content  to  remain 
in  its  proper  place.  His  voice,  as  he  answered,  shook 
with  rage,  —  all  the  greater  because  the  undaunted  stern 
ness  by  which  it  was  confronted  seemed  to  reduce  it  to 
futility. 

"  Take  care  !  "  he  cried,  "  take  care  !  You,  nor  any 
other  man,  clergyman  or  no  clergyman,  have  any  right  to 
be  the  judge  of  my  conduct." 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  Hodder,  "if  your  conduct 
affects  the  welfare,  the  progress,  the  reputation  of  the 
church  of  which  I  am  rector,  I  have  the  right.  And  I 
intend  to  exercise  it.  It  becomes  my  duty,  however  pain 
ful,  to  tell  you,  as  a  member  of  the  Church,  wherein  you 
have  wronged  the  Church  and  wronged  yourself." 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  339 

He  didn't  raise  his  tone,  and  there  was  in  it  more  of 
sorrow  than  of  indignation.  The  banker  turned  an  ashen 
gray.  ...  A  moment  elapsed  before  he  spoke,  a  trans 
forming  moment.  He  suddenly  became  ice. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said.  "  I  can't  pretend  to  account  for 
these  astounding  views  you  have  acquired  —  and  I  am 
using  a  mild  term.  Let  me  say  this  "  (he  leaned  forward 
a  little,  across  the  desk)  :  "  I  demand  that  you  be  specific. 
I  am  a  busy  man,  I  have  little  time  to  waste,  I  have  cer 
tain  matters  before  me  which  must  be  attended  to  to-night. 
I  warn  you  that  I  will  not  listen  any  longer  to  vague  accu 
sations." 

It  was  Hodder's  turn  to  marvel.  Did  Eldon  Parr,  after 
all,  have  no  sense  of  guilt?  Instantaneously,  automati 
cally,  his  own  anger  rose. 

"  You  may  be  sure,  Mr.  Parr,  that  I  should  not  be  here 
unless  I  were  prepared  to  be  specific.  And  what  I  am 
going  to  say  to  you  I  have  reserved  for  your  ear  alone,  in 
the  hope  that  you  will  take  it  to  heart,  while  it  is  not  yet 
too  late,  and  amend  your  life  accordingly." 

Eldon  Parr  shifted  slightly.  His  look  became  inscruta 
ble,  was  riveted  on  the  rector. 

"  I  shall  call  your  attention  first  to  a  man  of  whom  you 
have  probably  never  heard.  He  is  dead  now  —  he  threw 
himself  into  the  river  this  summer,  with  a  curse  on  his  lips 
—  I  am  afraid  —  a  curse  against  you.  A  few  years  ago 
he  lived  happily  with  his  wife  and  child  in  a  little  house 
on  the  Grade  Suburban,  and  he  had  several  thousand  dol 
lars  as  a  result  of  careful  saving  and  systematic  self-denial. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  never  thought  of  the  responsibilities 
of  a  great  name.  This  man,  like  thousands  of  others  in 
the  city,  idealized  you.  He  looked  up  to  you  as  the  soul 
of  honour,  as  a  self-made  man  who  by  his  own  unaided 
efforts  —  as  you  yourself  have  just  pointed  out  —  rose  from 
a  poor  boy  to  a  position  of  power  and  trust  in  the  com 
munity.  He  saw  you  a  prominent  layman  in  the  Church 
of  God.  He  was  dazzled  by  the  brilliancy  of  your  suc 
cess,  inspired  by  a  civilization  which  gave  such  opportuni 
ties.  He  recognized  that  he  himself  had  not  the  brains 


340  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

for  such  an  achievement,  —  his  hope  and  love  and  ambi 
tion  were  centred  in  his  boy." 

At  the  word  Eldon  Parr's  glance  was  suddenly  dulled 
by  pain.  He  tightened  his  lips. 

"  That  boy  was  then  of  a  happy,  merry  disposition,  so 
the  mother  says,  and  every  summer  night  as  she  cooked 
supper  she  used  to  hear  him  laughing  as  he  romped  in  the 
yard  with  his  father.  When  I  first  saw  him  this  summer, 
it  was  two  days  before  his  father  committed  suicide.  The 
child  was  lying,  stifled  with  the  heat,  in  the  back  room  of 
one  of  those  desolate  lodging  houses  in  Dalton  Street,  and 
his  little  body  had  almost  wasted  away. 

"  While  I  was  there  the  father  came  in,  and  when  he 
saw  me  he  was  filled  with  fury.  He  despised  the  Church, 
and  St.  John's  above  all  churches,  because  you  were  of  it ; 
because  you  who  had  given  so  generously  to  it  had 
wrecked  his  life.  You  had  shattered  his  faith  in  hu 
manity,  his  ideal.  From  a  normal,  contented  man  he  had 
deteriorated  into  a  monomaniac  whom  no  one  would  hire, 
a  physical  and  mental  wreck  who  needed  care  and  nurs 
ing.  He  said  he  hoped  the  boy  would  die. 

"  And  what  had  happened?  The  man  had  bought,  with 
all  the  money  he  had  in  the  world,  Consolidated  Tractions. 
He  had  bought  it  solely  because  of  his  admiration  for  your 
ability,  his  faith  in  your  name.  It  was  inconceivable  to 
him  that  a  man  of  your  standing,  a  public  benefactor,  a 
supporter  of  church  and  charities,  would  permit  your 
name  to  be  connected  with  any  enterprise  that  was  not 
sound  and  just.  Thousands  like  Garvin  lost  all  they  had, 
while  you  are  still  a  rich  man.  It  is  further  asserted  that 
you  sold  out  all  your  stock  at  a  high  price,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  that  in  the  leased  lines,  which  are  guaranteed  heavy 
dividends." 

"Have  you  finished?"  demanded  Eldon  Parr. 

"  Not  quite,  on  this  subject,"  replied  the  rector.  "  Two 
nights  after  that,  the  man  threw  himself  in  the  river. 
His  body  was  pulled  out  by  men  on  a  tugboat,  and  his 
worthless  stock  certificate  was  in  his  pocket.  It  is  now 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Horace  Bentley.  Thanks  to 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  341 

Mr.  Bentley,  the  widow  found  a  temporary  home,  and 
the  child  has  almost  recovered." 

Hodder  paused.  His  interest  had  suddenly  become 
concentrated  upon  the  banker's  new  demeanour,  and  he 
would  not  have  thought  it  within  the  range  of  possibility 
that  a  man  could  listen  to  such  a  revelation  concerning 
himself  without  the  betrayal  of  some  feeling.  But  so  it 
was,  —  Eldon  Parr  had  been  coldly  attentive,  save  for  the 
one  scarcely  perceptible  tremor  when  the  boy  was  men 
tioned.  His  interrogatory  gesture  gave  the  very  touch  of 
perfection  to  this  attitude,  since  it  proclaimed  him  to  have 
listened  patiently  to  a  charge  so  preposterous  that  a  less 
reasonable  man  would  have  cut  it  short. 

"  And  what  leads  you  to  suppose,"  he  inquired,  "  that  I 
am  responsible  in  this  matter?  What  leads  you  to  infer 
that  the  Consolidated  Tractions  Company  was  not  organ 
ized  in  good  faith  ?  Do  you  think  that  business  men  are 
always  infallible  ?  The  street-car  lines  of  this  city  were 
at  sixes  and  sevens,  fighting  each  other  ;  money  was  being 
wasted  by  poor  management.  The  idea  behind  the 
company  was  a  public-spirited  one,  to  give  the  citizens 
cheaper  and  better  service,  by  a  more  modern  equipment, 
by  a  wider  system  of  transfer.  It  seems  to  me,  Mr. 
Hodder,  that  you  put  yourself  in  a  more  quixotic  position 
than  the  so-called  reformers  when  you  assume  that  the 
men  who  organize  a  company  in  good  faith  are  personally 
responsible  for  every  share  of  stock  that  is  sold,  and  for 
the  welfare  of  every  individual  who  may  buy  the  stock. 
We  force  no  one  to  buy  it.  They  do  so  at  their  own 
risk.  I  myself  have  thousands  of  dollars  of  worthless 
stock  in  my  safe.  I  have  never  complained." 

The  full  force  of  Hodder's  indignation  went  into  his 
reply. 

"  I  am  not  talking  about  the  imperfect  code  of  human 
justice  under  which  we  live,  Mr.  Parr,"  he  cried.  "  This 
is  not  a  case  in  which  a  court  of  law  may  exonerate  you, 
it  is  between  you  and  your  God.  But  I  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  find  out,  from  unquestioned  sources,  the  truth 
about  the  Consolidated  Tractions  Company  —  I  shall  not 


342  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE  CUP 

go  into  the  details  at  length  —  they  are  doubtless  familiar 
to  you.  I  know  that  the  legal  genius  of  Mr.  Langmaid, 
one  of  my  vestry,  made  possible  the  organization  of  the 
company,  and  thereby  evaded  the  plain  spirit  of  the  law 
of  the  state.  I  know  that  one  branch  line  was  bought 
for  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  capital 
ized  for  three  millions,  and  that  most  of  the  others  were 
scandalously  over-capitalized.  I  know  that  while  the 
coining  transaction  was  still  a  secret,  you  and  other 
gentlemen  connected  with  the  matter  bought  up  large 
interests  in  other  lines,  which  you  proceeded  to  lease  to 
yourselves  at  guaranteed  dividends  which  these  lines  do 
not  earn.  I  know  that  the  first  large  dividend  was  paid 
out  of  capital.  And  the  stock  which  you  sold  to  poor 
Garvin  was  so  hopelessly  watered  that  it  never  could  have 
been  anything  but  worthless.  If,  in  spite  of  these  facts, 
you  do  not  deem  yourself  responsible  for  the  misery 
which  has  been  caused,  if  your  conscience  is  now  clear,  it 
is  my  duty  to  tell  you  that  there  is  a  higher  bar  of  justice." 

The  intensity  of  the  fire  of  the  denunciation  had,  in 
deed,  a  momentary  yet  visible  effect  in  the  banker's 
expression.  Whatever  the  emotions  thus  lashed  to  self- 
betrayal,  anger,  hatred,  —  fear,  perhaps,  Hodder  could 
not  detect  a  trace  of  penitence ;  and  he  was  aware,  on 
the  part  of  the  other,  of  a  supreme,  almost  spasmodic 
effort  for  self-control.  The  constitutional  reluctance  of 
Eldon  Parr  to  fight  openly  could  not  have  been  more 
clearly  demonstrated. 

"  Because  you  are  a  clergyman,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  began, 
"  because  you  are  the  rector  of  St.  John's,  I  have  allowed 
you  to  say  things  to  me  which  I  would  not  have  permitted 
from  any  other  man.  I  have  tried  to  take  into  account 
your  point  of  view,  which  is  naturally  restricted,  your  par 
donable  ignorance  of  what  business  men,  who  wish  to  do 
their  duty  by  Church  and  State,  have  to  contend  with. 
When  you  came  to  this  parish  you  seemed  to  have  a  sen 
sible,  a  proportional  view  of  things ;  you  were  content  to 
confine  your  activities  to  your  own  sphere,  content  not  to 
meddle  with  politics  and  business,  which  you  could,  at 


THE   ARRAIGNMENT  343 

first  hand,  know  nothing  about.  The  modern  desire  of 
clergymen  to  interfere  in  these  matters  has  ruined  the 
usefulness  of  many  of  them. 

"I  repeat,  I  have  tried  to  be  patient.  I  venture  to 
hope,  still,  that  this  extraordinary  change  in  you  may  not 
be  permanent,  but  merely  the  result  of  a  natural  sympa 
thy  with  the  weak  and  unwise  and  unfortunate  who  are 
always  to  be  found  in  a  complex  civilization.  I  can  even 
conceive  how  such  a  discovery  must  have  shocked  you, 
temporarily  aroused  your  indignation,  as  a  clergyman, 
against  the  world  as  it  is  —  and,  I  may  add,  as  it  has  al 
ways  been.  My  personal  friendship  for  you,  and  my  in 
terest  in  your  future  welfare  impel  me  to  make  a  final 
appeal  to  you  not  to  ruin  a  career  which  is  full  of 
promise." 

The  rector  did  not  take  advantage  of  the  pause.  A 
purely  psychological  curiosity  hypnotized  him  to  see  how 
far  the  banker  would  go  in  his  apparent  generosity. 

"  I  once  heard  you  say,  I  believe,  in  a  sermon,  that  the 
Christian  religion  is  a  leaven.  It  is  the  leaven  that  soft 
ens  and  ameliorates  the  hard  conditions  of  life,  that  makes 
our  relations  with  our  fellow-men  bearable.  But  life  is  a 
contest,  it  is  war.  It  always  has  been,  and  always  will 
be.  Business  is  war,  commerce  is  war,  both  among  nations 
and  individuals.  You  cannot  get  around  it.  If  a  man 
does  not  exterminate  his  rivals  they  will  exterminate  him. 
In  other  days  churches  were  built  and  endowed  with  the 
spoils  of  war,  and  did  not  disdain  the  money.  To-day 
they  cheerfully  accept  the  support  and  gifts  of  business 
men.  I  do  not  accuse  them  of  hypocrisy.  It  is  a  recog 
nition  on  their  part  that  business  men,  in  spite  of  hard 
facts,  are  not  unmindful  of  the  spiritual  side  of  life,  and 
are  not  deaf  to  the  injunction  to  help  others.  And  when, 
let  me  ask  you,  could  you  find  in  the  world's  history 
more  splendid  charities  than  are  around  us  to-day?  In 
stitutions  endowed  for  medical  research,  for  the  conquest 
of  deadly  diseases?  libraries,  hospitals,  schools  —  men 
giving  their  fortunes  for  these  things,  the  fruits  of 
a  life's  work  so  laboriously  acquired?  Who  can  sajr 


344  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

that  the  modern  capitalist  is  not  liberal,  is  not  a  public 
benefactor? 

"  I  dislike  being  personal,  but  you  have  forced  it  upon 
me.  I  dislike  to  refer  to  what  I  have  already  done  in  the 
matter  of  charities,  but  I  hinted  to  you  awhile  ago  of  a 
project  I  have  conceived  and  almost  perfected  of  gifts  on 
a  much  larger  scale  than  I  have  ever  attempted."  The 
financier  stared  at  him  meaningly.  "  And  I  had  you  in 
mind  as  one  of  the  three  men  whom  I  should  consult, 
whom  I  should  associate  with  myself  in  the  matter.  We 
cannot  change  human  nature,  but  we  can  better  condi 
tions  by  wise  giving.  I  do  not  refer  now  to  the  settle 
ment  house,  which  I  am  ready  to  help  make  and  maintain 
as  the  best  in  the  country,  but  I  have  in  mind  a  system  to 
be  carried  out  with  the  consent  and  aid  of  the  municipal 
government,  of  play-grounds,  baths,  parks,  places  of  rec 
reation,  and  hospitals,  for  the  benefit  of  the  people,  which 
will  put  our  city  in  the  very  forefront  of  progress.  And 
I  believe,  as  a  practical  man,  I  can  convince  you  that  the 
betterment  which  you  and  I  so  earnestly  desire  can  be 
brought  about  in  no  other  way.  Agitation  can  only  re 
sult  in  anarchy  and  misery  for  all." 

Hodder's  wrath,  as  he  rose  from  his  chair,  was  of  the 
sort  that  appears  incredibly  to  add  to  the  physical  stat 
ure, —  the  bewildering  spiritual  wrath  which  is  rare  in 
deed,  and  carries  all  before  it. 

"  Don't  tempt  me,  Mr.  Parr  !  "  he  said.  "  Now  that  I 
know  the  truth,  I  tell  you  frankly  I  would  face  pov 
erty  and  persecution  rather  than  consent  to  your  offer. 
And  I  warn  you  once  more  not  to  flatter  yourself  that  ex 
istence  ends  here,  that  you  will  not  be  called  to  answer 
for  every  wrong  act  you  have  committed  in  accumulating 
your  fortune,  that  what  you  call  business  is  an  affair  of 
which  God  takes  no  account.  What  I  say  may  seem  fool 
ishness  to  you,  but  I  tell  you,  in  the  words  of  that  Fool 
ishness,  that  it  will  not  profit  you  to  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  your  own  soul.  You  remind  me  that  the  Church 
in  old  time  accepted  gifts  from  the  spoils  of  war,  and  I 
will  add  of  rapine  and  murder.  And  the  Church  to-day, 


THE  ARRAIGNMENT  345 

to  repeat  your  own  parallel,  grows  rich  with  money  wrong 
fully  got.  Legally  ?  Ah,  yes,  legally,  perhaps.  But  that 
will  not  avail  you.  And  the  kind  of  church  you  speak  of 
—  to  which  I,  to  my  shame,  once  consented  —  Our  Lord 
repudiates.  It  is  none  of  his.  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Parr,  in 
his  Name,  first  to  make  your  peace  with  your  brothers 
before  you  presume  to  lay  another  gift  on  the  altar." 

During  this  withering  condemnation  of  himself  Eldon 
Parr  sat  motionless,  his  face  grown  livid,  an  expression  on 
it  that  continued  to  haunt  Hodder  long  afterwards.  An 
expression,  indeed,  which  made  the  banker  almost  unrec 
ognizable. 

"  Go,"  he  whispered,  his  hand  trembling  visibly  as  he 
pointed  towards  the  door.  "  Go  —  I  have  had  enough  of 
this." 

"  Not  until  I  have  said  one  thing  more,"  replied  the  rec 
tor,  undaunted.  "  I  have  found  the  woman  whose  mar 
riage  with  your  son  you  prevented,  whom  you  bought  off 
and  started  on  the  road  to  hell  without  any  sense  of  re 
sponsibility.  You  have  made  of  her  a  prostitute  and  a 
drunkard.  Whether  she  can  be  rescued  or  not  is  prob 
lematical.  She,  too,  is  in  Mr.  Bentley's  care,  a  man 
upon  whom  you  once  showed  no  mercy.  I  leave  Garvin, 
who  has  gone  to  his  death,  and  Kate  Marcy  and  Horace 
Bentley  to  j^our  conscience,  Mr.  Parr.  That  they  are 
representative  of  many  others,  I  do  not  doubt.  I  tell  you. 
solemnly  that  the  whole  meaning  of  life  is  service  to 
others,  and  I  warn  you,  before  it  is  too  late,  to  repent 
and  make  amends.  Gifts  will  not  help  you,  and  charities 
are  of  no  avail." 

At  the  reference  to  Kate  Marcy  Eldon  Parr's  hand 
dropped  to  his  side.  He  seemed  to  have  physical  difficulty 
in  speaking. 

"  Ah,  you  have  found  that  woman !  "  He  leaned  an 
elbow  on  the  desk,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  have  become 
weary,  spent,  old.  And  Hodder,  as  he  watched  him,  per 
ceived  that  his  haggard  look  was  directed  towards  a 
photograph  in  a  silver  frame  on  the  table  —  a  photograph 
of  Preston  Parr.  At  length  he  broke  the  silence. 


346  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

"  What  would  you  have  had  me  do ?  "  he  asked.  "  Permit 
my  son  to  marry  a  woman  of  the  streets,  I  suppose.  That 
would  have  been  Christianity,  according  to  your  notion. 
Come  now,  what  would  you  have  done,  if  your  son  had 
been  in  question  ?  " 

A  wave  of  pity  swept  over  the  rector. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  why  did  you  have  nothing  but  cruelty 
in  your  heart,  and  contempt  for  her?  When  you  saw 
that  she  was  willing,  for  the  love  of  the  son  whom  you 
loved,  to  give  up  all  that  life  meant  to  her,  how  could 
you  destroy  her  without  a  qualm?  The  crime  you  com 
mitted  was  that  you  refused  to  see  God  in  that  woman's 
soul,  when  he  had  revealed  himself  to  you.  You  looked  for 
wile,  for  cunning,  for  self-seeking,  —  and  they  were  not 
there.  Love  had  obliterated  them.  When  you  saw  how 
meekly  she  obeyed  you,  and  agreed  to  go  away,  why  did 
you  not  have  pity?  If  you  had  listened  to  your  con 
science,  you  would  have  known  what  to  do. 

"I  do  not  say  that  you  should  not  have  opposed  the 
marriage  —  then.  Marriage  is  not  to  be  lightly  entered 
into.  From  the  moment  you  went  to  see  her  you  became 
responsible  for  her.  You  hurled  her  into  the  abyss,  and 
she  has  come  back  to  haunt  you.  You  should  have  had 
her  educated  and  cared  for  —  she  would  have  submitted  to 
any  plan  you  proposed.  And  if,  after  a  sensible  separa 
tion,  you  became  satisfied  as  to  her  character  and  develop 
ment,  and  your  son  still  wished  to  marry  her,  you  should 
have  withdrawn  your  objections. 

"  As  it  is,  and  in  consequence  of  your  act,  you  have  lost 
your  son.  He  left  you  then,  and  you  have  no  more  con 
trol  over  him." 

"Stop!"  cried  Eldon  Parr,  "for  God's  sake  stop!  I 
won't  stand  any  more  of  this.  I  will  not  listen  to  criticism 
of  my  life,  to  strictures  on  my  conduct  from  you  or  any 
other  man."  He  reached  for  a  book  on  the  corner  of  his 
desk  —  a  cheque  book.  "  You'll  want  money  for  these 
people,  I  suppose,"  he  added  brutally.  "  I  will  give  it, 
but  it  must  be  understood  that  I  do  not  recognize  any 
right  of  theirs  to  demand  it." 


"  '  YOU'LL  WANT  MONEY   FOR  THESE   PEOPLE,   I  SUPPOSE,'   HE  ADDED 
BRUTALLY." 


THE    ARRAIGNMENT  347 

For  a  moment  Hodder  did  not  trust  himself  to  reply. 
He  looked  down  across  the  desk  at  the  financier,  who  was 
fumbling  with  the  leaves. 

"They  do  not  demand  it,  Mr.  Parr,"  he  answered, 
gently.  "  And  I  have  tried  to  make  it  plain  to  you  that 
you  have  lost  the  right  to  give  it.  I  expected  to  fail  in 
this.  I  have  failed." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Eldon  Parr  let  the  cheque 
book  close. 

"  I  mean  what  I  said,"  the  rector  replied.     "  That  if  you 
would  save  your  soul  you  must  put  an  end,  to-morrow,  to  1 
the  acquisition  of  money,  and  devote  the  rest  of  your  life  : 
to  an  earnest  and  sincere  attempt  to  make  just  restitution 
to  those  you  have  wronged.     And  you  must  ask  the  for 
giveness  of  God  for  your  sins.     Until  you  do  that,  your 
charities  are  abominations  in  his  sight.     I  will  not  trouble 
you  any  longer,  except  to  say  that  I  shall  be  ready  to  come 
to  you  at   any  time  my  presence  may  be  of  any  help  to 
you." 

The  banker  did  not  speak.  .  .  .  With  a  single  glance 
towards  the  library  Hodder  left  the  house,  but  paused  for 
a  moment  outside  to  gaze  back  at  it,  as  it  loomed  in  the 
darkness  against  the  stars. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH 


ON  the  following  Sunday  morning  the  early  light 
filtered  into  Alison's  room,  and  she  opened  her  strong 
eyes.  Presently  she  sprang  from  her  bed  and  drew  back 
the  curtains  of  the  windows,  gazing  rapturously  into  the 
crystal  day.  The  verdure  of  the  Park  was  freshened  to 
an  incredible  brilliancy  by  the  dew,  a  thin  white  veil  of 
mist  was  spread  over  the  mirror  of  the  waters,  the  trees 
flung  long  shadows  across  the  turf. 

A  few  minutes  later  she  was  out,  thrilled  by  the  silence, 
drawing  in  deep  breaths  of  the  morning  air;  lingering  by 
still  lakes  catching  the  blue  of  the  sky  —  a  blue  that  left 
its  stain  upon  the  soul;  as  the  sun  mounted  she  wandered 
farther,  losing  herself  in  the  wilderness  of  the  forest. 

At  eight  o'clock,  when  she  returned,  there  were  signs 
that  the  city  had  awakened.  A  mounted  policeman 
trotted  past  her  as  she  crossed  a  gravel  drive,  and  on  the 
tree-flecked  stretches,  which  lately  had  been  empty  as 
Eden,  human  figures  were  scattered.  A  child,  with  a 
sailboat  that  languished  for  lack  of  wind,  stared  at  her, 
first  with  fascination  and  wonder  in  his  eyes,  and  then 
smiled  at  her  tentatively.  She  returned  the  smile  with  a 
start. 

Children  had  stared  at  her  like  that  before  now,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  asked  herself  what  the 
look  might  mean.  She  had  never  really  been  fond  of 
them:  she  had  never,  indeed,  been  brought  much  in  con 
tact  with  them.  But  now,  without  warning,  a  sudden 
fierce  yearning  took  possession  of  her;  surprised  and 

348 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  349 

almost  frightened,  she  stopped  irresistibly  and  looked 
back  at  the  thin  little  figure  crouched  beside  the  water,  — 
to  discover  that  his  widened  eyes  were  still  upon  her. 
Her  own  lingered  on  him  shyly,  and  thus  for  a  moment 
she  hung  in  doubt  whether  to  flee  or  stay,  her  heart 
throbbing  as  though  she  were  on  the  brink  of  some  un 
known  and  momentous  adventure.  She  took  a  timid 
step. 

"  What's  your  name  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  boy  told  her. 

"  What's  yours  ?  "  he  ventured,  still  under  the  charm. 

"Alison." 

He  had  never  heard  of  that  name,  and  said  so.  They 
deplored  the  lack  of  wind.  And  presently,  still  mystified, 
but  gathering  courage,  he  asked  her  why  she  blushed,  at 
which  her  colour  deepened. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  she  told  him. 

"  I  like  it,"  the  boy  said. 

Though  the  grass  was  still  wet,  she  got  down  on  her 
knees  in  her  white  skirt,  the  better  to  push  the  boat  along 
the  shore:  once  it  drifted  beyond  their  reach,  and  was 
only  rescued  by  a  fallen  branch  discovered  with  difficulty. 
The  arrival  of  the  boy's  father,  an  anaemic-looking  little 
man,  put  an  end  to  their  play.  He  deplored  the  condition 
of  the  lady's  dress. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  in  the  least,"  she  assured  him,  and 
fled  in  a  mood  she  did  not  attempt  to  analyze.  Hurrying 
homeward,  she  regained  her  room,  bathed,  and  at  half 
past  eight  appeared  in  the  big,  formal  dining-room,  from 
which  the  glare  of  the  morning  light  was  carefully  screened. 
Her  father  insisted  on  breakfasting  here;  and  she  found 
him  now  seated  before  the  white  table-cloth,  reading  a 
newspaper.  He  glanced  up  at  her  critically. 

"  So  you've  decided  to  honour  me  this  morning,"  he 
said. 

"  I've  been  out  in  the  Park,"  she  replied,  taking  the 
chair  opposite  him.  He  resumed  his  reading,  but  pres 
ently,  as  she  was  pouring  out  the  coffee,  he  lowered  the 
paper  again. 


350  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  What's  the  occasion  to-day  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  occasion  ?  "  she  repeated,  without  acknowledging 
that  she  had  instantly  grasped  his  implication.  His  eyes 
were  on  her  gown. 

"  You  are  not  accustomed,  as  a  rule,  to  pay  much 
deference  to  Sunday." 

"Doesn't  the  Bible  say,  somewhere,"  she  inquired, 
"  that  the  Sabbath  was  made  for  man  ?  Perhaps  that  may 
be  broadened  after  a  while,  to  include  woman." 

"But  you  have  never  been  an  advocate,  so  far  as  I 
know,  of  women  taking  advantage  of  their  opportunity 
by  going  to  Church." 

r*-~  u  What's  the  use,"  demanded  Alison,  "  of  the  thousands 
of  working  women  spending  the  best  part  of  the  day  in 
the  ordinary  church,  when  their  feet  and  hands  and  heads 
are  aching  ?  Unless  some  fire  is  kindled  in  their  souls,  it 
is  hopeless  for  them  to  try  to  obtain  any  benefit  from 
religion  —  so-called  —  as  it  is  preached  to  them  in  most 
^.  churches." 

"  Fire  in  their  souls  !  "  exclaimed  the  banker. 

"  Yes.  If  the  churches  offered  those  who  might  be 
leaders  among  their  fellows  a  practical  solution  of  exist 
ence,  kindled  their  self-respect,  replaced  a  life  of  drudgery 
by  one  of  inspiration  —  that  would  be  worth  while.  But 
you  will  never  get  such  a  condition  as  that  unless  your 
pulpits  are  filled  by  personalities,  instead  of  puppets  who 
are  all  cast  in  one  mould,  and  who  profess  to  be  there  by 
divine  right." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  at  least  that  you  are  taking  an  inter 
est  in  religious  matters,"  her  father  observed,  meaningly. 

Alison  coloured.     But  she  retorted  with  spirit. 

"  That  is  true  of  a  great  many  persons  to-day  who  are 
thinking  on  the  subject.  If  Christianity  is  a  solution  of 
life,  people  are  demanding  of  the  churches  that  they  shall 
perform  their  function,  and  show  us  how,  and  why,  or 
else  cease  to  encumber  the  world." 

Eldon  Parr  folded  up  his  newspaper. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  Church  this  morning,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.     At  what  time  will  you  be  ready  ?  " 


WHAT'S  YOUR  NAME?'  SHE  ASKED." 


ALISON   GOES  TO   CHURCH  351 

"  At  quarter  to  eleven.  But  if  you  are  going  to  St. 
John's,  you  will  have  to  start  earlier.  I'll  order  a  car  at 
half  past  ten." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  She  held  her  breath,  uncon 
sciously,  for  the  answer. 

"  To  Calvary,"  he  replied  coldly,  as  he  rose  to  leave  the 
room.  "  But  I  hesitate  to  ask  you  to  come,  —  I  am  afraid 
you  will  not  find  a  religion  there  that  suits  you." 

For  a  moment  she  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak. 
The  secret  which,  ever  since  Friday  evening,  she  had  been 
burning  to  learn  was  disclosed.  .  .  .  Her  father  had 
broken  with  Mr.  Hodder  ! 

"  Please  don't  order  the  motor  for  me,"  she  said.  "I'd 
rather  go  in  the  street  cars." 

She  sat  very  still  in  the  empty  room,  her  face  burning. 
Characteristically,  her  father  had  not  once  mentioned  the 
rector  of  St.  John's,  yet  had  contrived  to  imply  that  her 
interest  in  Hodder  was  greater  than  her  interest  in 
religion.  And  she  was  forced  to  admit,  with  her  custom 
ary  honesty,  that  the  implication  was  true. 

The  numbers  who  knew  Alison  Parr  casually  thought 
her  cold.  They  admired  a  certain  quality  in  her  work, 
but  they  did  not  suspect  that  that  quality  was  the  incom 
plete  expression  of  an  innate  idealism  capable  of  being 
fanned  into  flame,  —  for  she  was  subject  to  rare  but  ardent 
enthusiasms  which  kindled  and  transformed  her  incred 
ibly  in  the  eyes  of  the  few  to  whom  the  process  had  been 
revealed.  She  had  had  even  a  longer  list  of  suitors  than 
any  one  guessed  ;  men  who  —  usually  by  accident  —  had 
touched  the  hidden  spring,  and  suddenly  beholding  an 
unimagined  woman,  had  consequently  lost  their  heads. 
The  mistake  most  of  them  had  made  (for  subtlety  in  such 
affairs  is  not  a  masculine  trait)  was  the  failure  to  recog 
nize  and  continue  to  present  the  quality  in  them  which 
had  awakened  her.  She  had  invariably  discovered  the 
feet  of  clay. 

Thus  disillusion  had  been  her  misfortune  —  perhaps  it 
would  be  more  accurate  to  say  her  fortune.  She  had 
built  up,  after  each  invasion,  her  defences  more  carefully 


352  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  solidly  than  before,  only  to  be  again  astonished  and 
dismayed  by  the  next  onslaught,  until  at  length  the  ques 
tion  had  become  insistent  —  the  question  of  an  alliance 
for  purposes  of  greater  security.  She  had  returned  to 
her  childhood  home  to  consider  it,  frankly  recognizing  it 
as  a  compromise,  a  fall.  .  .  . 

And  here,  in  this  sanctuary  of  her  reflection,  and  out  of 
a  quarter  on  which  she  had  set  no  watch,  out  of  a  wilder 
ness  which  she  had  believed  to  hold  nothing  save  the 
ruined  splendours  of  the  past,  had  come  one  who,  like  the 
traditional  figures  of  the  wilderness,  had  attracted  her  by 
his  very  uncouthness  and  latent  power.  And  the  anom 
aly  he  presented  in  what  might  be  called  the  vehemence 
of  his  advocacy  of  an  outworn  orthodoxy,  in  his  occupa 
tion  of  the  pulpit  of  St.  John's,  had  quickened  at  once  her 
curiosity  and  antagonism.  It  had  been  her  sudden  dis 
covery,  or  rather  her  instinctive  suspicion  of  the  inner 
conflict  in  him  which  had  set  her  standard  fluttering  in 
response.  Once  more  (for  the  last  time  —  something 
whispered  now)  she  had  become  the  lady  of  the  lists ;  she 
sat  on  her  walls  watching,  with  beating  heart  and  strain 
ing  eyes,  the  closed  helm  of  her  champion,  ready  to  fling 
down  the  revived  remnant  of  her  faith  as  prize  or  forfeit. 
She  had  staked  all  on  the  hope  that  he  would  not  lower 
his  lance.  .  .  . 

Saturday  had  passed  in  suspense.  .  .  .  And  now  was 
flooding  in  on  her  the  certainty  that  he  had  not  failed  her  ; 
that  he  had,  with  a  sublime  indifference  to  a  worldly 
future  and  success,  defied  the  powers.  With  indifference, 
too,  to  her !  She  knew,  of  course,  that  he  loved  her.  A 
man  with  less  of  greatness  would  have  sought  a  middle 
way.  .  .  . 

When,  at  half  past  ten,  she  fared  forth  into  the  sun 
light,  she  was  filled  with  anticipation,  excitement,  concern, 
—  feelings  enhanced  and  not  soothed  by  the  pulsing 
vibrations  of  the  church  bells  in  the  softening  air.  The 
swift  motion  of  the  electric  car  was  grateful.  .  .  .  But  at 
length  the  sight  of  familiar  landmarks,  old-fashioned 
dwellings  crowded  in  between  the  stores  and  factories  of 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  353 

lower  Tower  Street,  brought  back  recollections  of  the 
days  when  she  had  come  this  way,  other  Sunday  morn 
ings,  and  in  a  more  leisurely  public  vehicle,  with  her 
mother.  Was  it  possible  that  she,  Alison  Parr,  were  go 
ing  to  church  now  ?  Her  excitement  deepened,  and  she 
found  it  difficult  to  bring  herself  to  the  realization  that 
her  destination  was  a  church  —  the  church  of  her  child 
hood.  At  this  moment  she  could  only  think  of  St.  John's 
as  the  setting  of  the  supreme  drama. 

When  she  alighted  at  the  corner  of  Burton  Street  there 
was  the  well-remembered,  shifting  group  on  the  pavement 
in  front  of  the  church  porch.  How  many  times,  in  the 
summer  and  winter,  in  fair  weather  and  cloudy,  in  rain 
and  sleet  and  snow  had  she  approached  that  group,  as  ;ihe 
approached  it  now  I  Here  were  the  people,  still,  in  the 
midst  of  whom  her  earliest  associations  had  been  formed, 
changed,  indeed,  —  but  yet  the  same.  No,  the  change  was 
in  her,  and  the  very  vastness  of  that  change  came  as  a  shock. 
These  had  stood  still,  anchored  to  their  traditions,  while 
she  —  had  she  grown  ?  or  merely  wandered  ?  She  had 
searched,  at  least,  and  seen.  She  had  once  accepted  them 
—  if  indeed  as  a  child  it  could  have  been  said  of  her  that 
she  accepted  anything  ;  she  had  been  unable  then,  at  any 
rate,  to  bring  forward  any  comparisons. 

Now  she  beheld  them,  collectively,  in  their  complacent 
finery,  as  representing  a  force,  a  section  of  the  army  block 
ing  the  heads  of  the  passes  of  the  world's  progress,  rest 
ing  on  their  arms,  but  ready  at  the  least  uneasy  movement 
from  below  to  man  the  breastworks,  to  fling  down  the 
traitor  from  above,  to  fight  fiercely  for  the  solidarity  of 
their  order.  And  Alison  even  believed  herself  to  detect, 
by  something  indefinable  in  their  attitudes  as  they  stood 
momentarily  conversing  in  lowered  voices,  an  aroused  sus 
picion,  an  uneasy  anticipation.  Her  imagination  went  so 
far  as  to  apprehend,  as  they  greeted  her  unwonted  appear 
ance,  that  they  read  in  it  an  addition  to  other  vague  and 
disturbing  phenomena.  Her  colour  was  high. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Atterbury,  "  I  thought  you 
had  gone  back  to  New  York  long  ago  !  " 

2A 


354  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Beside  his  mother  stood  Gordon  —  more  dried  up,  it 
seemed,  than  ever.  Alison  recalled  him,  as  on  this  very 
spot,  a  thin,  pale  boy  in  short  trousers,  and  Mrs.  Atter- 
bury  a  beautiful  and  controlled  young  matron  associated 
with  St.  John's  and  with  children's  parties.  She  was 
wonderful  yet,  with  her  white  hair  and  straight  nose,  her 
erect  figure  still  slight.  Alison  knew  that  Mrs.  Atter- 
bury  had  never  forgiven  her  for  rejecting  her  son — or 
rather  for  being  the  kind  of  woman  who  could  reject  him. 

"  Surely  you  haven't  been  here  all  summer  ?  " 

Alison  admitted  it,  characteristically,  without  explana 
tions. 

"  It  seems  so  natural  to  see  you  here  at  the  old  church, 
after  all  these  years,"  the  lady  went  on,  and  Alison  was 
aware  that  Mrs.  Atterbury  questioned  —  or  rather  was  at 
a  loss  for  the  motives  which  had  led  such  an  apostate 
back  to  the  fold.  "  We  must  thank  Mr.  Hodder,  I  sup 
pose.  He's  very  remarkable.  I  hear  he  is  resuming  the 
services  to-day  for  the  first  time  since  June." 

Alison  was  inclined  to  read  a  significance  into  Mrs. 
Atterbury's  glance  at  her  son,  who  was  clearing  his 
throat. 

"  But  —  where  is  Mr.  Parr  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  understand 
he  has  come  back  from  his  cruise." 

"Yes,  he  is  back.     I  came  without  him  —  as  you  see." 

She  found  a  certain  satisfaction  in  adding  to  the  mysti 
fication,  to  the  disquietude  he  betrayed  by  fidgeting  more 
than  usual. 

"  But  —  he  always  comes  when  he  is  in  town.     Business 

—  I  suppose  —  ahem  !  " 

"No,"  replied  Alison,  dropping  her  bomb  with  cruel 
precision,  "  he  has  gone  to  Calvary." 

The  agitation  was  instantaneous. 

"  To  Calvary  ! "  exclaimed  mother  and  son  in  one 
breath.  "  Why  ?  "  It  was  Gordon  who  demanded.  "  A 

—  a  special  occasion  there  —  a  bishop  or  something  ?  " 
"  I'm  afraid  you  must  ask  him,"  she  said. 

She  was  delayed  on  the  steps,  first  by  Nan  Ferguson, 
then  by  the  Laureston  Greys,  and  her  news  outdistanced 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  355 

her  to  the  porch.  Charlotte  Plimpton,  looking  very  red 
and  solid,  her  eyes  glittering  with  excitement,  blocked 
her  way. 

"  Alison  !  "  she  cried,  in  the  slightly  nasal  voice  that 
was  a  Gore  inheritance,  "  I'm  told  your  father's  gone  to 
Calvary  I  Has  Mr.  Hodder  offended  him  ?  I  heard 
rumours  —  Wallis  seems  to  be  afraid  that  something  has 
happened." 

"He  hasn't  said  anything  about  it  to  me,  Charlotte," 
said  Alison,  in  quiet  amusement,  "  but  then  he  wouldn't, 
you  know.  I  don't  live  here  any  longer,  and  he  has  no 
reason  to  think  that  I  would  be  interested  in  church 
matters." 

"  But —  why  did  you  come  ?  "  Charlotte  demanded,  with 
Gore  naivete. 

Alison  smiled. 

"  You  mean  —  what  was  my  motive  ?  " 

Charlotte  actually  performed  the  miracle  of  getting 
redder.  She  was  afraid  of  Alison  —  much  more  afraid 
since  she  had  known  of  her  vogue  in  the  East.  When 
Alison  had  put  into  execution  the  astounding  folly  (to  the 
Gore  mind)  of  rejecting  the  inheritance  of  millions  to 
espouse  a  profession,  it  had  been  Charlotte  Plimpton  who 
led  the  chorus  of  ridicule  and  disapproval.  But  success, 
to  the  Charlotte  Plimptons,  is  its  own  justification,  and 
now  her  ambition  (which  had  ramifications)  was  to  have 
Alison  "  do "  her  a  garden.  Incidentally,  the  question 
had  flashed  through  her  mind  as  to  how  much  Alison's 
good  looks  had  helped  towards  her  triumph  in  certain 
shining  circles. 

44  Oh,  of  course  I  didn't  mean  that,"  she  hastened  to 
deny,  although  it  was  exactly  what  she  had  meant.  Her 
curiosity  unsatisfied  —  and  not  likely  to  be  satisfied  at 
once,  she  shifted  abruptly  to  the  other  burning  subject. 
44 1  was  so  glad  when  I  learned  you  hadn't  gone.  Grace 
Larrabbee's  garden  is  a  dream,  my  dear.  Wallis  and  I 
stopped  there  the  other  day  and  the  caretaker  showed  it 
to  us.  Can't  you  make  a  plan  for  me,  so  that  I  may  begin 
next  spring  ?  And  there's  something  else  I  wanted  to  ask 


356  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

you.  Wallis  and  I  are  going  to  New  York  the  end  of  the 
month.  Shall  you  be  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Alison,  cautiously. 

"  We  want  so  much  to  see  one  or  two  of  your  gardens 
on  Long  Island,  and  especially  the  Sibleys',  on  the  Hud 
son.  I  know  it  will  be  late  in  the  season,  — but  don't  you 
think  you  could  take  us,  Alison?  And  I  intend  to  give 
you  a  dinner.  I'll  write  you  a  note.  Here's  Wallis." 

"  Well,  well,  well"  said  Mr.  Plimpton,  shaking  Alison's 
hand.  "Where's  father?  I  hear  he's  gone  to  Calvary." 

Alison  made  her  escape.  Inside  the  silent  church, 
Eleanor  Goodrich  gave  her  a  smile  and  a  pressure  of  wel 
come.  Beside  her,  standing  behind  the  rear  pew,  were 
Asa  Waring  and  —  Mr.  Bentley  !  Mr.  Bentley  returned 
to  St.  John's  ! 

"  You  have  come  !  "  Alison  whispered. 

He  understood  her.  He  took  her  hand  in  his  and  looked 
down  into  her  upturned  face. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  and  my  girls  have  come  — 
Sally  Grover  and  the  others,  and  some  friends  from  Dal  ton 
Street  and  elsewhere." 

The  news,  the  sound  of  this  old  gentleman's  voice  and 
the  touch  of  his  hand  suddenly  filled  her  with  a  strange 
yet  sober  happiness.  Asa  Waring,  though  he  had  not 
overheard,  smiled  at  her  too,  as  in  sympathy.  His  austere 
face  was  curiously  illuminated,  and  she  knew  instinctively 
that  in  some  way  he  shared  her  happiness.  Mr.  Bentley 
had  come  back  I  Yes,  it  was  an  augury.  From  child 
hood  she  had  always  admired  Asa  Waring,  and  now  she 
felt  a  closer  tie.  .  .  . 

She  reached  the  pew,  hesitated  an  instant,  and  slipped 
forward  on  her  knees.  Years  had  gone  by  since  she  had 
prayed,  and  even  now  she  made  no  attempt  to  translate 
into  words  the  intensity  of  her  yearning  —  for  what? 
Hodder's  success,  for  one  thing,  —  and  by  success  she 
meant  that  he  might  pursue  an  unfaltering  course.  True 
to  her  temperament,  she  did  not  look  for  the  downfall  of 
the  forces  opposed  to  him.  She  beheld  him  persecuted, 
yet  unyielding,  and  was  thus  lifted  to  an  exaltation  that 


ALISON   GOES  TO   CHURCH  357 

amazed.  ...  If  he  could  do  it,  such  a  struggle  must 
surely  have  an  ultimate  meaning  !  Thus  she  found  her 
self,  trembling,  on  the  borderland  of  faith.  .  .  . 

She  arose,  bewildered,  her  pulses  beating.  And  presently 
glancing  about,  she  took  in  that  the  church  was  fuller 
than  she  ever  remembered  having  seen  it,  and  the  palpita 
ting  suspense  she  felt  seemed  to  pervade,  as  it  were,  the 
very  silence.  With  startling  abruptness,  the  silence  was 
broken  by  the  tones  of  the  great  organ  that  rolled  and 
reverberated  among  the  arches  ;  distant  voices  took  up 
the  processional  ;  the  white  choir  filed  past,  —  first  the 
treble  voices  of  the  boys,  then  the  deeper  notes  of  the 
men,  —  turned  and  mounted  the  chancel  steps,  and  then 
she  saw  Hodder.  Her  pew  being  among  the  first,  he 
passed  very  near  her.  Did  he  know  she  would  be  there  ? 
The  sternness  of  his  profile  told  her  nothing.  He  seemed 
at  that  moment  removed,  set  apart,  consecrated  —  this  was 
the  word  that  came  to  her,  and  yet  she  was  keenly  con 
scious  of  his  presence. 

Tingling,  she  found  herself  repeating,  inwardly,  two 
lines  of  the  hymn  : 

"  Lay  hold  on  life,  and  it  shall  be 
Thy  joy  and  crown  eternally." 

"  Lay  hold  on  life  !  " 

The  service  began,  —  the  well-remembered,  beautiful 
appeal  and  prayers  which  she  could  still  repeat,  after  a 
lapse  of  time,  almost  by  heart ;  and  their  music  and 
rhythm,  the  simple  yet  magnificent  language  in  which 
they  were  clothed  —  her  own  language  —  awoke  this  morn 
ing  a  racial  instinct  strong  in  her,  —  she  had  not  known 
how  strong.  Or  was  it  something  in  Hodder's  voice  that 
seemed  to  illumine  the  ancient  words  with  a  new  mean 
ing  ?  Raising  her  eyes  to  the  chancel  she  studied  his 
head,  and  found  in  it  still  another  expression  of  that  race, 
the  history  of  which  had  been  one  of  protest,  of  develop 
ment  of  its  own  character  and  personality.  Her  mind 
went  back  to  her  first  talk  with  him,  iu  the  garden.,  and 


358  THE   IXSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

she  saw  how  her  intuition  had  recognized  in  him  then  the 
spirit  of  a  people  striving  to  assert  itself.  .  .  . 

She  stood  with  tightened  lips,  during  the  Apostles' 
Creed,  listening  to  his  voice  as  it  rose,  strong  and  un 
faltering,  above  the  murmur  of  the  congregation.  .  .  . 

At  last  she  saw  him  swiftly  crossing  the  chancel, 
mounting  the  pulpit  steps,  and  he  towered  above  her,  a 
dominant  figure,  his  white  surplice  sharply  outlined 
against  the  dark  stone  of  the  pillar.  The  hymn  died 
away,  the  congregation  sat  down.  There  was  a  sound  in 
the  church,  expectant,  presaging,  like  the  stirring  of 
leaves  at  the  first  breath  of  wind,  and  then  all  was 
silent. 


He  had  preached  for  an  hour  —  longer,  perhaps.  Alison 
could  not  have  said  how  long.  She  had  lost  all  sense  of 
time. 

No  sooner  had  the  text  been  spoken,  "  Except  a  man  be 
born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God,"  than  she 
seemed  to  catch  a  fleeting  glimpse  of  an  hitherto  un- 
imagined  Personality.  Hundreds  of  times  she  had  heard 
those  words,  and  they  had  been  as  meaningless  to  her  as 
to  Nicodemus.  But  now  —  now  something  was  brought 
home  to  her  of  the  magnificent  certainty  with  which  they 
must  first  have  been  spoken,  of  the  tone  and  bearing  and 
authority  of  him  who  had  uttered  them.  Was  Christ  like 
that  ?  And  could  it  be  a  Truth,  after  all,  a  truth  only  to 
be  grasped  by  one  who  had  experienced  it  ? 

It  was  in  vain  that  man  had  tried  to  evade  this,  the 
supreme  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ,  had  sought  to  substi 
tute  ceremonies  and  sacrifices  for  spiritual  rebirth.  It 
was  in  vain  that  the  Church  herself  had,  from  time  to 
time,  been  inclined  to  compromise.  St.  Paul,  once  the 
strict  Pharisee  who  had  laboured  for  the  religion  of  works, 
himself  had  been  reborn  into  the  religion  of  the  Spirit. 
It  was  Paul  who  had  liberated  that  message  of  rebirth, 
which  the  world  has  been  so  long  in  grasping,  from  the 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  359 

narrow  bounds  of  Palestine  and  sent  it  ringing  down  the 
ages  to  the  democracies  of  the  twentieth  century. 

And  even  Paul,  though  not  consciously  inconsistent, 
could  not  rid  himself  completely  of  that  ancient,  automatic 
conception  of  religion  which  the  Master  condemned,  but 
had  on  occasions  attempted  fruitlessly  to  unite  the  new 
with  the  old.  And  thus,  for  a  long  time,  Christianity  had 
been  wrongly  conceived  as  history,  beginning  with  what  to 
Paul  and  the  Jews  was  an  historical  event,  the  allegory  of 
the  Garden  of  Eden,  the  fall  of  Adam,  and  ending  with 
the  Jewish  conception  of  the  Atonement.  This  was  a  ra 
tionalistic  and  not  a  spiritual  religion. 

The  miracle  was  not  the  vision,  whatever  its  nature, 
which  Saul  beheld  on  the  road  to  Damascus.  The 
miracle  was  the  result  of  that  vision,  the  man  reborn. 
Saul,  the  persecutor  of  Christians,  become  Paul,  who 
spent  the  rest  of  his  days,  in  spite  of  persecution  and 
bodily  infirmities,  journeying  tirelessly  up  and  down  the 
Roman  Empire,  preaching  the  risen  Christ,  and  labouring 
more  abundantly  than  they  all  !  There  was  no  miracle  in 
the  New  Testament  more  wonderful  than  this. 

The  risen  Christ  !  Let  us  not  trouble  ourselves  about 
the  psychological  problems  involved,  problems  which  the 
first  century  interpreted  in  its  own  simple  way.  Modern 
science  has  taught  us  this  much,  at  least,  that  we  have 
by  no  means  fathomed  the  limits  even  of  a  transcendent 
personality.  If  proofs  of  the  Resurrection  and  Ascension 
were  demanded,  let  them  be  spiritual  proofs,  and  there 
could  be  none  more  convincing  than  the  life  of  the  trans 
formed  Saul,  who  had  given  to  the  modern,  western  world 
the  message  of  salvation.  .  .  . 

That  afternoon,  as  Alison  sat  motionless  on  a  distant 
hillside  of  the  Park,  gazing  across  the  tree-dotted,  rolling 
country  to  the  westward,  she  recalled  the  breathless 
silence  in  the  church  when  he  had  reached  this  point  and 
paused,  looking  down  at  the  congregation.  By  the  subtle 
transmission  of  thought,  of  feeling  which  is  characteristic 
at  dramatic  moments  of  bodies  of  people,  she  knew  that 
he  had  already  contrived  to  stir  them  to  the  quick.  It 


360  THE   INSIDE  OF  THE  CUP 

was  not  so  much  that  these  opening  words  might  have 
been  startling  to  the  strictly  orthodox,  but  the  added  fact 
that  Hodder  had  uttered  them.  The  sensation  in  the 
pews,  as  Alison  interpreted  it  and  exulted  over  it,  was 
one  of  bewildered  amazement  that  this  was  their  rector,  — 
the  same  man  who  had  preached  to  them  in  June.  Like 
Paul,  of  whom  he  spoke,  he  too  was  transformed,  had 
come  to  his  own,  radiating  a  new  power  that  seemed  to 
shine  in  his  face. 

Still  agitated,  she  considered  that  discourse  now  in  her 
solitude,  what  it  meant  for  him,  for  her,  for  the  Church 
and  civilization  that  a  clergyman  should  have  had  the 
courage  to  preach  it.  He  himself  had  seemed  unconscious 
of  any  courage  ;  had  never  once  —  she  recalled  —  been 
sensational.  He  had  spoken  simply,  even  in  the  intensest 
moments  of  denunciation.  And  she  wondered  now  how 
he  had  managed,  without  stripping  himself,  without 
baring  the  intimate,  sacred  experiences  of  his  own  soul,  to 
convey  to  them,  so  nobly,  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  him.  .  .  . 

He  began  by  referring  to  the  hope  with  which  he  had 
come  to  St.  John's,  and  the  gradual  realization  that  the 
church  was  a  failure  —  a  dismal  failure  when  compared  to 
the  high  ideal  of  her  Master.  By  her  fruits  she  should  be 
known  and  judged.  From  the  first  he  had  contemplated, 
with  a  heavy  heart,  the  sin  and  misery  at  their  very  gates. 
Not  three  blocks  distant  children  were  learning  vice  in 
the  streets,  little  boys  of  seven  and  eight,  underfed  and 
anaemic,  were  driven  out  before  dawn  to  sell  newspapers, 
little  girls  thrust  forth  to  haunt  the  saloons  and  beg,  while 
their  own  children  were  warmed  and  fed.  While  their 
own  daughters  were  guarded,  young  women  in  Dalton 
Street  were  forced  to  sell  themselves  into  a  life  which 
meant  slow  torture,  inevitable  early  death.  Hopeless 
husbands  and  wives  were  cast  up  like  driftwood  by  the 
cruel,  resistless  flood  of  modern  civilization  —  the  very 
civilization  which  yielded  their  wealth  and  luxury.  The 
civilization  which  professed  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  yet 
was  pitiless. 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  361 

He  confessed  to  them  that  for  a  long  time  he  had  been 
blind  to  the  truth,  had  taken  the  inherited,  unchristian 
view  that  the  disease  which  caused  vice  and  poverty 
might  not  be  cured,  though  its  ulcers  might  be  alleviated. 
He  had  not,  indeed,  clearly  perceived  and  recognized  the 
disease.  He  had  regarded  Dalton  Street  in  a  very  special 
sense  as  a  reproach  to  St.  John's,  but  now  he  saw  that  all 
such  neighbourhoods  were  in  reality  a  reproach  to  the  city, 
to  the  state,  to  the  nation.  True  Christianity  and  De 
mocracy  were  identical,  and  the  congregation  of  St.  John's, 
as  professed  Christians  and  citizens,  were  doubly  respon 
sible,  inasmuch  as  they  not  only  made  no  protest  or 
attempt  to  change  a  government  which  permitted  the 
Dalton  Streets  to  exist,  but  inasmuch  also  as,  —  directly 
or  indirectly, — they  derived  a  profit  from  conditions 
which  were  an  abomination  to  God.  It  would  be  but  an 
idle  mockery  for  them  to  go  and  build  a  settlement  house, 
if  they  did  not  first  reform  their  lives. 

Here  there  had  been  a  decided  stir  among  the  pews. 
Hodder  had  not  seemed  to  notice  it. 

When  he,  their  rector,  had  gone  to  Dalton  Street  to 
invite  the  poor  and  wretched  into  God's  Church,  he  was 
met  by  the  scornful  question  :  "  Are  the  Christians  of  the 
churches  any  better  than  we  ?  Christians  own  the  grim 
tenements  in  which  we  live,  the  saloons  and  brothels  by 
which  we  are  surrounded,  which  devour  our  children. 
Christians  own  the  establishments  which  pay  us  starvation 
wages;  profit  by  politics,  and  take  toll  from  our  very 
vice;  evade  the  laws  and  reap  millions,  while  we  are  sent 
to  jail.  Is  their  God  a  God  who  will  lift  us  out  of  our 
misery  and  distress  ?  Are  their  churches  for  the  poor  ? 
Are  not  the  very  pews  in  which  they  sit  as  closed  to  us 
as  their  houses  ?  " 

"I  know  thy  works,  that  thou  art  neither  cold  nor 
hot.  I  would  thou  wert  cold  or  hot." 

One  inevitable  conclusion  of  such  a  revelation  was  that 
he  had  not  preached  to  them  the  vital  element  of 
Christianity.  And  the  very  fact  that  his  presentation  of 
religion  had  left  many  indifferent  or  dissatisfied  was  proof 


362  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

positive  that  he  had  dwelt  upon  non-essentials,  laid  empha 
sis  upon  the  mistaken  interpretations  of  past  ages.  There 
were  those  within  the  Church  who  were  content  with 
this,  who  —  like  the  Pharisees  of  old  —  welcomed  a  reli 
gion  which  did  not  interfere  with  their  complacency, 
with  their  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  wealth,  with  their 
special  privileges;  welcomed  a  Church  which  didn't  raise 
her  voice  against  the  manner  of  their  lives  —  against  the 
order,  the  Golden  Calf  which  they  had  set  up,  which  did 
not  accuse  them  of  deliberately  retarding  the  coming  of 
the  Kingdom  of  God. 

Ah,  that  religion  was  not  religion,  for  religion  was  a 
spiritual,  not  a  material  affair.  In  that  religion,  vainly 
designed  by  man  as  a  compromise  between  God  and 
Mammon,  there  was  none  of  the  divine  discontent  of  the 
true  religion  of  the  Spirit,  no  need  of  the  rebirth  of  the 
soul.  And  those  who  held  it  might  well  demand,  with 
Nicodemus  and  the  rulers  of  the  earth,  "How  can  these 
things  be  ?  " 

And  there  were  others  who  still  lingered  in  the  Church, 
perplexed  and  wistful,  who  had  come  to  him  and  con 
fessed  that  the  so-called  catholic  acceptance  of  divine 
truths,  on  which  he  had  hitherto  dwelt,  meant  nothing  to 
them.  To  these,  in  particular,  he  owed  a  special  repa 
ration,  and  he  took  this  occasion  to  announce  a  series  of 
Sunday  evening  sermons  on  the  Creeds.  So  long  as  the 
Creeds  remained  in  the  Prayer  Book  it  was  his  duty  to 
interpret  them  in  terms  not  only  of  modern  thought,  but 
in  harmony  with  the  real  significance  of  the  Person  and 
message  of  Jesus  Christ.  Those  who  had  come  to  him 
questioning,  he  declared,  were  a  thousand  times  right  in 
refusing  to  accept  the  interpretations  of  other  men,  the 
consensus  of  opinion  of  more  ignorant  ages,  expressed  in 
an  ancient  science  and  an  archaic  philosophy. 

And  what  should  be  said  of  the  vast  and  ever  increasing 
numbers  of  those  not  connected  with  the  Church,  who  had 
left  it  or  were  leaving  it  ?  and  of  the  less  fortunate  to 
whose  bodily  wants  they  had  been  ministering  in  the 
parish  house,  for  whom  it  had  no  spiritual  message,  and 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHURCH  363 

who  never  entered  its  doors  ?  The  necessity  of  religion, 
of  getting  in  touch  with,  of  dependence  on  the  Spirit  of 
the  Universe  was  inherent  in  man,  and  yet  there  were 
thousands  —  nay,  millions  in  the  nation  to-day  in  whose 
hearts  was  an  intense  and  unsatisfied  yearning,  who  per 
ceived  no  meaning  in  life,  no  Cause  for  which  to  work, 
who  did  not  know  what  Christianity  was,  who  had  never 
known  what  it  was,  who  wist  not  where  to  turn  to  find 
out.  Education  had  brought  many  of  them  to  discern,  in 
the  Church's  teachings,  an  anachronistic  medley  of  myths 
and  legends,  of  theories  of  schoolmen  and  theologians,  of 
surviving  pagan  superstitions  which  could  not  be  trans 
lated  into  life.  They  saw,  in  Christianity,  only  the 
adulterations  of  the  centuries.  If  any  one  needed  a  proof 
of  the  yearning  people  felt,  let  him  go  to  the  bookshops, 
or  read  in  the  publishers'  lists  to-day  the  announcements  of 
books  on  religion.  There  was  no  supply  where  there  was 
no  demand. 

Truth  might  no  longer  be  identified  with  Tradition, 
and  the  day  was  past  when  councils  and  synods  might 
determine  it  for  all  mankind.  The  era  of  forced  accept 
ance  of  philosophical  doctrines  and  dogmas  was  past,  and 
that  of  freedom,  of  spiritual  rebirth,  of  vicarious  suffer 
ing,  of  willing  sacrifice  and  service  for  a  Cause  was  upon 
them.  That  cause  was  Democracy.  Christ  was  uniquely 
the  Son  of  God  because  he  had  lived  and  suffered  and 
died  in  order  to  reveal  to  the  world  the  meaning  of  this 
life  and  of  the  hereafter  —  the  meaning  not  only  for  the 
individual,  but  for  society  as  well.  Nothing  might  be 
added  to  or  subtracted  from  that  message  —  it  was  com 
plete. 

True  faith  was  simply  trusting  —  trusting  that  Christ 
gave  to  the  world  the  revelation  of  God's  plan.  And  the 
Saviour  himself  had  pointed  out  the  proof :  "  If  any  man 
do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be 
of  God,  or  whether  I  speak  for  myself."  Christ  had 
repeatedly  rebuked  those  literal  minds  which  had  de 
manded  material  evidence :  true  faith  spurned  it,  just  as 
true  friendship,  true  love  between  man  and  man,  true 


364  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

trust  scorned  a  written  bond.  To  paraphrase  St.  James's 
words,  faith  without  trust  is  dead  —  because  faith  without 
trust  is  impossible.  God  is  a  Spirit,  only  to  be  recognized 
in  the  Spirit,  and  every  one  of  the  Saviour's  utterances 
were  —  not  of  the  flesh,  of  the  man  —  but  of  the  Spirit 
within  him.  "  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen  the 
Father  ;  "  and  "  Why  callest  thou  me  good  ?  none  is  good 
save  one,  that  is,  God."  The  Spirit,  the  Universal 
Meaning  of  Life,  incarnate  in  the  human  Jesus. 

To  be  born  again  was  to  overcome  our  spiritual  blind 
ness,  and  then,  and  then  only,  we  might  behold  the  spirit 
shining  in  the  soul  of  Christ.  That  proof  had  sufficed  for 
Mark,  had  sufficed  for  the  writer  of  the  sublime  Fourth 
Gospel,  had  sufficed  for  Paul.  Let  us  lift  this  wondrous 
fact,  once  and  for  all,  out  of  the  ecclesiastical  setting  and 
incorporate  it  into  our  lives.  Nor  need  the  hearts  of  those 
who  seek  the  Truth,  who  fear  not  to  face  it,  be  troubled 
if  they  be  satisfied,  from  the  Gospels,  that  the  birth  of 
Jesus  was  not  miraculous.  The  physical  never  could 
prove  the  spiritual,  which  was  the  real  and  everlasting, 
which  no  discovery  in  science  or  history  can  take  from  us. 
The  Godship  of  Christ  rested  upon  no  dogma,  it  was 
a  conviction  born  into  us  with  the  new  birth.  And  it 
becomes  an  integral  part  of  our  personality,  our  very 
being. 

The  secret,  then,  lay  in  a  presentation  of  the  divine 
message  which  would  convince  and  transform  and  elec 
trify  those  who  heard  it  to  action  —  a  presentation  of 
the  message  in  terms  which  the  age  could  grasp.  That 
is  what  Paul  had  done,  he  had  drawn  his  figures  boldly 
from  the  customs  of  the  life  of  his  day,  but  a  more  or 
less  intimate  knowledge  of  these  ancient  customs  were 
necessary  before  modern  men  and  women  could  under 
stand  those  figures  and  parallels.  And  the  Church  must 
awake  to  her  opportunities,  to  her  perception  of  the 
Cause.  .  .  . 

What,  then,  was  the  function,  the  mission  of  the  Church 
Universal  ?  Once  she  had  laid  claim  to  temporal  power, 
believed  herself  to  be  the  sole  agency  of  God  on  earth, 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHUKCH  365 

had  spoken  ex  cathedra  on  philosophy,  history,  theology, 
and  science,  had  undertaken  to  confer  eternal  bliss  and  to 
damn  forever.  Her  members,  and  even  her  priests,  had 
gone  from  murder  to  mass  and  from  mass  to  murder,  and 
she  had  engaged  in  cruel  wars  and  persecutions  to  curtail 
the  liberties  of  mankind.  Under  that  conception  religion 
was  a  form  of  insurance  of  the  soul.  Perhaps  a  common, 
universal  belief  had  been  necessary  in  the  dark  ages  before 
the  sublime  idea  of  education  for  the  masses  had  come  ;  but 
the  Church  herself — through  ignorance — had  opposed  the 
growth  of  education,  had  set  her  face  sternly  against 
the  development  of  the  individual,  which  Christ  had 
taught,  the  privilege  of  man  to  use  the  faculties  of  the 
intellect  which  God  had  bestowed  upon  him.  He  himself, 
their  rector,  had  advocated  a  catholic  acceptance,  though 
much  modified  from  the  mediaeval  acceptance,  —  one  that 
professed  to  go  behind  it  to  an  earlier  age.  Yes,  he  must 
admit  with  shame  that  he  had  been  afraid  to  trust  where 
God  trusted,  had  feared  to  confide  the  working  out  of 
the  ultimate  Truth  of  the  minds  of  the  millions. 

The  Church  had  been  monarchical  in  form,  and  some 
strove  stubbornly  and  blindly  to  keep  her  monarchical. 
Democracy  in  government  was  outstripping  her.  Let 
them  look  around,  to-day,  and  see  what  was  happening 
in  the  United  States  of  America.  A  great  movement 
was  going  on  to  transfer  actual  participation  in  govern 
ment  from  the  few  to  the  many,  —  a  movement  towards 
true  Democracy,  —  and  that  was  precisely  what  was  about 
to  happen  in  the  Church.  Her  condition  at  present  was 
one  of  uncertainty,  transition  —  she  feared  to  let  go 
wholly  of  the  old,  she  feared  to  embark  upon  the  new. 
Just  as  the  conservatives  and  politicians  feared  to  give 
up  the  representative  system,  the  convention,  so  was  she 
afraid  to  abandon  the  synod,  the  council,  and  trust  to  man. 

The  light  was  coming  slowly,  the  change,  the  rebirth 
of  the  Church  by  gradual  evolution.  By  the  grace  of 
God  those  who  had  laid  the  foundations  of  the  Church  in 
which  he  stood,  of  all  Protestantism,  had  built  for  the 
future.  The  racial  instinct  in  them  had  asserted  itself. 


366  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

had  warned  them  that  to  suppress  freedom  in  religion 
were  to  suppress  it  in  life,  to  paralyze  that  individual 
initiative  which  was  the  secret  of  their  advancement.  .  .  . 

The  new  Church  Universal,  then,  would  be  the  mili 
tant,  aggressive  body  of  the  reborn,  whose  mission  it  was 
to  send  out  into  the  life  of  the  nation  transformed  men 
and  women  who  would  labour  unremittingly  for  the  King 
dom  of  God.  Unity  would  come  —  but  unity  in  freedom, 
true  Catholicity.  The  truth  would  gradually  pervade 
the  masses  —  be  wrought  out  by  them.  Even  the  great 
evolutionary  forces  of  the  age,  such  as  economic  necessity, 
were  acting  to  drive  divided  Christianity  into  consoli 
dation,  and  the  starving  churches  of  country  villages 
were  now  beginning  to  combine.  .  .  . 

No  man  might  venture  to  predict  the  details  of  the 
future  organization  of  the  united  Church,  although  St. 
Paul  himself  had  sketched  it  in  broad  outline  :  every 
worker,  lay  and  clerical,  labouring  according  to  his  gift, 
teachers,  executives,  ministers,  visitors,  missionaries,  heal 
ers  of  sick  and  despondent  souls.  But  the  supreme  func 
tion  of  the  Church  was  to  inspire  —  to  inspire  individuals 
to  willing  service  for  the  cause,  the  Cause  of  Democracy, 
the  fellowship  of  mankind.  If  she  failed  to  inspire,  the 
Church  would  wither  and  perish.  And  therefore  she 
must  revive  again  the  race  of  inspirers,  prophets,  modern 
Apostles  to  whom  this  gift  was  given,  going  on  their 
rounds,  awaking  cities  and  arousing  whole  country-sides. 

But  whence  —  it  might  be  demanded  by  the  cynical  — 
were  the  prophets  to  come  ?  Prophets  could  not  be 
produced  by  training  and  education  ;  prophets  must  be 
born.  Reborn,  —  that  was  the  word.  Let  the  Church 
have  faith.  Once  her  Cause  were  perceived,  once  her 
whole  energy  were  directed  towards  its  fulfilment,  the 
prophets  would  arise,  out  of  the  East  and  out  of  the 
West,  to  stir  mankind  to  higher  effort,  to  denounce  fear 
lessly  the  shortcomings  and  evils  of  the  age.  They  had 
not  failed  in  past  ages,  when  the  world  had  fallen  into 
hopelessness,  indifference,  and  darkness.  And  they  would 
not  fail  now. 


ALISON   GOES   TO  CHURCH  367 

Prophets  were  personalities,  and  Phillips  Brooks  — 
himself  a  prophet  —  had  defined  personality  as  a  conscious 
relationship  with  God.  "  All  truth,"  he  had  said,  "  conies 
to  the  world  through  personality."  And  down  the  ages 
had  come  an  Apostolic  Succession  of  personalities, — 
Paul,  Augustine,  Francis,  Dante,  Luther,  Milton,  —  yes, 
and  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  Phillips  Brooks,  whose  Author 
ity  was  that  of  the  Spirit,  whose  light  had  so  shone  before 
men  that  they  had  glorified  the  Father  which  was  in 
heaven  ;  the  current  of  whose  Power  had  so  radiated,  in 
ever  widening  circles,  as  to  make  incandescent  countless 
other  souls. 

And  which  among  them  would  declare  that  Abraham 
Lincoln,  like  Stephen,  had  not  seen  his  Master  in  the  sky  ? 

The  true  prophet,  the  true  apostle,  then,  was  one  in 
spired  and  directed  by  the  Spirit,  the  laying  on  of  hands 
was  but  a  symbol,  —  the  symbol  of  the  sublime  truth  that 
one  personality  caught  fire  from  another.  Let  the  Church 
hold  fast  to  that  symbol,  as  an  acknowledgment,  a  re 
minder  of  a  supreme  mystery.  Tradition  had  its  value 
when  it  did  not  deteriorate  into  superstition,  into  the 
mechanical,  automatic  transmission  characteristic  of  the 
mediaeval  Church,  for  the  very  suggestion  of  which  Peter 
had  rebuked  Simon  in  Samaria.  For  it  would  be  remem 
bered  that  Simon  had  said :  "  Give  me  also  this  power, 
that  on  whomsoever  I  lay  hands,  he  may  receive  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

The  true  successor  to  the  Apostles  must  be  an  Apostle 
himself.  .  .  . 

Jesus  had  seldom  spoken  literally,  and  the  truths  he 
sought  to  impress  upon  the  world  had  of  necessity  been 
clothed  in  figures  and  symbols,  —  for  spiritual  truths  might 
be  conveyed  in  no  other  way.  The  supreme  proof  of  his 
Godship,  of  his  complete  knowledge  of  the  meaning  of  life 
was  to  be  found  in  his  parables.  To  the  literal,  material 
mind,  for  example,  the  parable  of  the  talents  was  merely 
an  unintelligible  case  of  injustice.  .  .  .  What  was 
meant  by  the  talents  ?  They  were  opportunities  for  service. 
Experience  taught  us  that  when  we  embraced  one  oppor- 


368  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

tunity,  one  responsibility,  the  acceptance  of  it  invariably 
led  to  another,  and  so  the  servant  who  had  five  talents, 
five  opportunities,  gained  ten.  The  servant  who  had  two 
gained  two  more.  But  the  servant  of  whom  only  one 
little  service  was  asked  refused  that,  and  was  cast  into 
outer  darkness,  to  witness  another  performing  the  task 
which  should  have  been  his.  Hell,  here  and  hereafter, 
was  the  spectacle  of  wasted  opportunity,  and  there  is  no 
suffering  to  compare  to  it. 

The  crime,  the  cardinal  sin  was  with  those  who  refused 
to  serve,  who  shut  their  eyes  to  the  ideal  their  Lord  had 
held  up,  who  strove  to  compromise  with  Jesus  Christ 
himself,  to  twist  and  torture  his  message  to  suit  their  own 
notions  as  to  how  life  should  be  led;  to  please  God  and 
Mammon  at  the  same  time,  to  bind  Christ's  Church  for 
their  comfort  and  selfish  convenience.  Of  them  it  was 
written,  that  they  shut  up  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  against 
men;  for  they  neither  go  in  themselves,  neither  suffer 
them  that  are  entering  to  go  in.  Were  these  any  better 
than  the  people  who  had  crucified  the  Lord  for  his  idealism, 
and  because  he  had  not  brought  them  the  material  King 
dom  for  which  they  longed  ? 

That  servant  who  had  feared  to  act,  who  had  hid  his 
talent  in  the  ground,  who  had  said  unto  his  lord,  "  I  knew 
thee  that  thou  art  an  hard  man,  reaping  where  thou  hadst 
not  sown,"  was  the  man  without  faith,  the  atheist  who 
sees  only  cruelty  and  indifference  in  the  order  of  things, 
who  has  no  spiritual  sight.  But  to  the  other  servants  it 
was  said,  "Thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I 
will  make  thee  ruler  over  many  things.  Enter  thou  into 
the  joy  of  thy  lord." 

The  meaning  of  life,  then,  was  service,  and  by  life  our 
Lord  did  not  mean  mere  human  existence,  which  is  only 
a  part  of  life.  The  Kingdom  of  heaven  is  a  state,  and 
may  begin  here.  And  that  which  we  saw  around  us  was 
only  one  expression  of  that  eternal  life  —  a  medium  to 
work  through,  towards  God.  All  was  service,  both  here 
and  hereafter,  and  he  that  had  not  discovered  that  the  joy 
of  service  was  the  only  happiness  worth  living  for  could 


ALISON   GOES   TO   OHT7BOH  369 

have  no  conception  of  the  Kingdom.  To  those  who  knew, 
there  was  no  happiness  like  being  able  to  say,  "  I  have 
found  my  place  in  God's  plan,  I  am  of  use.'''  Such  was 
salvation.  .  .  . 

And  in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  may  be  read 
the  history  of  what  are  known  as  the  Protestant  nations. 
What  happens  logically  when  the  individual  is  suddenly 
freed  from  the  restraint  of  external  authority  occurred 
when  Martin  Luther  released  the  vital  spark  of  Chris 
tianity,  which  he  got  from  Paul,  and  from  Christ  himself 
—  the  revelation  of  individual  responsibility,  that  God  the 
Spirit  would  dwell,  by  grace,  in  the  individual  soul.  Ah, 
we  had  paid  a  terrible  yet  necessary  price  for  freedom. 
We  had  wandered  far  from  the  Father,  we  had  been  re 
duced  to  the  very  husks  of  individualism,  —  become  as 
swine.  We  beheld  around  us,  to-day,  selfishness,  ruthless 
competition,  as  great  contrasts  between  misery  and  luxury 
as  in  the  days  of  the  Roman  Empire.  But  should  we,  for 
that  reason,  return  to  the  leading-strings  of  authority? 
Could  we  if  we  would  ?  A  little  thought  ought  to 
convince  us  that  the  liberation  of  the  individual  could 
not  be  revoked,  that  it  had  forever  destroyed  the  power 
of  authority  to  carry  conviction.  To  go  back  to  the 
Middle  Ages  would  be  to  deteriorate  and  degenerate. 
No,  we  must  go  on.  .  .  . 

Luther's  movement,  in  religion,  had  been  the  logical 
forerunner  of  democracy,  of  universal  suffrage  in  govern 
ment,  the  death-knell  of  that  misinterpretation  of  Chris 
tianity  as  the  bulwark  of  monarchy  aud  hierarchy  had 
been  sounded  when  he  said,  "  Ich  kann  nicht  anders!" 
The  new  Republic  founded  on  the  western  continent  had 
announced  to  the  world  the  initiation  of  the  transfer  of 
Authority  to  the  individual  soul.  God,  the  counterpart  of 
the  King,  the  ruler  in  a  high  heaven  of  a  flat  terrestrial 
expanse,  outside  of  the  world,  was  now  become  the  Spirit 
of  a  million  spheres,  the  indwelling  spirit  in  man.  Democ 
racy  and  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ  both  consisted  in 
trusting  the  man  —  yes,  and  the  woman  —  whom  God 
trusts.  Christianity  was  individualism  carried  beyond 

2B 


370  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

philosophy  into  religion,  and  the  Christian,  the  ideal  citi 
zen  of  the  democracy,  was  free  since  he  served  not  because 
he  had  to,  but  because  he  desired  to  of  his  own  will,  which, 
paradoxically,  is  God's  will.  God  was  in  politics,  to  the 
confusion  of  politicians;  God  in  government.  And  in 
some  greater  and  higher  sense  than  we  had  yet  perceived, 
the  saying  voxpopuli  vox  del  was  eternally  true.  He  entered 
into  the  hearts  of  people  and  moved  them,  and  so  the 
world  progressed.  It  was  the  function  of  the  Church  to 
make  Christians,  until  —  when  the  Kingdom  of  God 
should  come  —  the  blending  should  be  complete.  Then 
Church  and  State  would  be  identical,  since  all  the  mem 
bers  of  the  one  would  be  the  citizens  of  the  other.  .  .  . 

"I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  father."  Rebirth  I  A  sense 
of  responsibility,  of  consecration.  So  we  had  come  pain 
fully  through  our  materialistic  individualism,  through  our 
selfish  Protestantism,  to  a  glimpse  of  the  true  Protestant 
ism  —  Democracy. 

Our  spiritual  vision  was  glowing  clearer.  We  were 
beginning  to  perceive  that  charity  did  not  consist  in  dis 
pensing  largesse  after  making  a  fortune  at  the  expense  of 
one's  fellow-men  ;  that  there  was  something  still  wrong  in 
a  government  that  permits  it.  It  was  gradually  becom 
ing  plain  to  us,  after  two  thousand  years,  that  human 
bodies  and  souls  rotting  in  tenements  were  more  valuable 
than  all  the  forests  on  all  the  hills ;  that  government, 
Christian  government,  had  something  to  do  with  these. 

We  should  embody,  in  government,  those  sublime  words 
of  the  Master,  "Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me." 
And  the  government  of  the  future  would  care  for  the 
little  children.  We  were  beginning  to  do  it.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  Christianity  and  reason  went  hand  in  hand, 
for  the  child  became  the  man  who  either  preyed  on 
humanity  and  filled  the  prisons  and  robbed  his  fellows,  or 
else  grew  into  a  useful,  healthy  citizen.  It  was  nothing 
less  than  sheer  folly  as  well  as  inhuman  cruelty  to  let  the 
children  sleep  in  crowded,  hot  rooms,  reeking  with 
diseases,  and  run  wild  throughout  the  long  summer, 
learning  vice  in  the  city  streets.  Arid  we  still  had 


ALISON   GOES   TO   CHUKCH  371 

slavery  —  economic  slavery  —  yes,  and  the  more  horrible 
slavery  of  women  and  young  girls  in  vice  —  as  much  a 
concern  of  government  as  the  problem  which  had  con 
fronted  it  in  1861.  .  .  .  We  were  learning  that  there  was 
something  infinitely  more  sacred  than  property.  .  .  . 

And  now  Alison  recalled,  only  to  be  thrilled  again  by 
an  electric  sensation  she  had  never  before  experienced  with 
such  intensity,  the  look  of  inspiration  on  the  preacher's  face 
as  he  closed.  The  very  mists  of  the  future  seemed  to  break 
before  his  importuning  gaze,  and  his  eyes  seemed  indeed 
to  behold,  against  the  whitening  dawn  of  the  spiritual  age 
he  predicted,  the  slender  spires  of  a  new  Church  sprung 
from  the  foundations  of  the  old.  A  Church,  truly 
catholic,  tolerant,  whose  portals  were  wide  in  welcome  of 
all  mankind.  The  creative  impulse,  he  had  declared,  was 
invariably  religious,  the  highest  art  but  the  expression  of 
the  mute  yearnings  of  a  people,  of  a  race.  Thus  had  once 
arisen,  all  over  Europe,  those  wonderful  cathedrals  which 
still  cast  their  spell  upon  the  world,  and  art  to-day  would 
respond  —  was  responding  —  to  the  unutterable  cravings  of 
mankind,  would  strive  once  more  to  express  in  stone  and 
glass  and  pigment  what  nations  felt.  Generation  after 
generation  would  labour  with  unflagging  zeal  until  the 
last  sculptured  fragment  of  the  new  Cathedral  —  the  new 
Cathedral  of  Democracy  —  pointed  upward  toward  the 
blue  vault  of  heaven.  Such  was  his  vision  —  God  the 
Spirit,  through  man  reborn,  carrying  out  his  great 
Design 


CHAPTER   XXII 

WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEERS,   SEE   NOT 


As  Alison  arose  from  her  knees  and  made  her  way  out 
of  the  pew,  it  was  the  expression  on  Charlotte  Plimpton's 
face  which  brought  her  back  once  more  to  a  sense  of  her 
surroundings;  struck  her,  indeed,  like  a  physical  blow. 
The  expression  was  a  scandalized  one.  Mrs.  Plimpton 
had  moved  towards  her,  as  if  to  speak,  but  Alison  hurried 
past,  her  exaltation  suddenly  shattered,  replaced  by  a 
rising  tide  of  resentment,  of  angry  amazement  against  a 
materialism  so  solid  as  to  remain  unshaken  by  the  words 
which  had  so  uplifted  her.  Eddies  were  forming  in  the 
aisle  as  the  people  streamed  slowly  out  of  the  church,  and 
snatches  of  their  conversation,  in  undertones,  reached  her 
ears. 

"  I  should  never  have  believed  it !  " 

"Mr.  Hodder,  of  all  men.   .   .  ." 

"The  bishop!   ..." 

Outside  the  swinging  doors,  in  the  vestibule,  the  voices 
were  raised  a  little,  and  she  found  her  path  blocked. 

"  It's  incredible  !  "  she  heard  Gordon  Atterbury  saying 
to  little  Everett  Constable,  who  was  listening  gloomily. 
"Sheer  Unitarianism,  socialism,  heresy." 

His  attention  was  forcibly  arrested  by  Alison,  in  whose 
cheeks  bright  spots  of  colour  burned.  He  stepped  aside, 
involuntarily,  apologetically,  as  though  he  had  instinctively 
read  in  her  attitude  an  unaccountable  disdain.  Everett 
Constable  bowed  uncertainly,  for  Alison  scarcely  noticed 
them. 

" Ahem  I"  said  Gordon,  nervously,  abandoning  his 

372 


"WHICH   SAY   TO  THE   SEERS,   SEE   NOT"    373 

former  companion  and  joining  her,  "I  was  just  saying, 
it's  incredible  — 

She  turned  on  him. 

"It  is  incredible,"  she  cried,  "that  persons  who  call 
themselves  Christians  cannot  recognize  their  religion 
when  they  hear  it  preached." 

He  gave  back  before  her,  visibly,  in  an  astonishment 
which  would  have  been  ludicrous  but  for  her  anger.  He 
had  never  understood  her  —  such  had  been  for  him  her 
greatest  fascination ;  —  and  now  she  was  less  comprehen 
sible  than  ever.  The  time  had  been  when  he  would  cheer 
fully  have  given  over  his  hope  of  salvation  to  have  been 
able  to  stir  her.  He  had  never  seen  her  stirred,  and  the 
sight  of  her  even  now  in  this  condition  was  uncomfortably 
agitating.  Of  all  things,  an  heretical  sermon  would  ap 
pear  to  have  accomplished  this  miracle  ! 

"  Christianity  !  "  he  stammered. 

"  Yes,  Christianity."  Her  voice  tingled.  "  I  don't  pre 
tend  to  know  much  about  it,  but  Mr.  Hodder  has  at  least 
made  it  plain  that  it  is  something  more  than  dead  dogmas, 
ceremonies,  and  superstitions." 

He  would  have  said  something,  but  her  one  thought  was 
to  escape,  to  be  alone.  These  friends  of  her  childhood 
were  at  that  moment  so  distasteful  as  to  have  become 
hateful.  Some  one  laid  a  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"Can't  we  take  you  home,  Alison?  I  don't  see  your 
motor." 

It  was  Mrs.  Constable. 

"  No,  thanks  —  I'm  going  to  walk,"  Alison  answered,  — 
yet  something  in  Mrs.  Constable's  face,  in  Mrs.  Constable's 
voice,  made  her  pause.  Something  new,  something  oddly 
sympathetic.  Their  eyes  met,  and  Alison  saw  that  the 
other  woman's  were  tired,  almost  haggard  —  yet  under 
standing. 

"Mr.  Hodder  was  right  —  a  thousand  times  right,  my 
dear,"  she  said. 

Alison  could  only  stare  at  her,  and  the  crimson  in  the 
bright  spots  of  her  cheeks  spread  over  her  face.  Why 
had  Mrs.  Constable  supposed  that  she  would  care  to  hear 


374  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  sermon  praised  ?  But  a  second  glance  put  her  in 
possession  of  the  extraordinary  fact  that  Mrs.  Constable 
herself  was  profoundly  moved. 

"  I  knew  he  would  change,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have  seen 
for  some  time  that  he  was  too  big  a  man  not  to  change. 
But  I  had  no  conception  that  he  would  have  such  power, 
and  such  courage,  as  he  has  shown  this  morning.  It  is 
not  only  that  he  dared  to  tell  us  what  we  were  —  smaller 
men  might  have  done  that,  and  it  is  comparatively  easy 
to  denounce.  But  he  has  the  vision  to  construct,  he  is  a 
seer  himself  —  he  has  really  made  me  see  what  Christianity 
is.  And  as  long  as  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  those 
closing  sentences." 

"  And  now  ? "  asked  Alison.  "  And  now  what  will 
happen  ?  " 

Mrs.  Constable  changed  colour.  Her  tact,  on  which 
she  prided  herself,  had  deserted  her  in  a  moment  of  un 
looked-for  emotion. 

"  Oh,  I  know  that  my  father  and  the  others  will  try  to 
put  him  out  —  but  can  they  ?  "  Alison  asked. 

It  was  Mrs.  Constable's  turn  to  stare.  The  hand  she 
suddenly  and  impulsively  put  forth  trembled  on  Alison's 
wrist. 

"  I  don't  know,  Alison  —  I'm  afraid  they  can.  It  is 
too  terrible  to  think  about.  .  .  .  And  they  can't  —  they 
won't  believe  that  many  changes  are  coming,  that  this  is 
but  one  of  many  signs.  .  .  .  Do  come  and  see  me." 

Alison  left  her,  marvelling  at  the  passage  between  them, 
and  that,  of  all  persons  in  the  congregation  of  St.  John's, 
the  lightning  should  have  struck  Mrs.  Constable.  .  .  . 
Turning  to  the  right  on  Burton  Street,  she  soon  found 
herself  walking  rapidly  westward  through  deserted  streets 
lined  by  factories  and  warehouses,  and  silent  in  the 
Sabbath  calm.  .  .  .  She  thought  of  Hodder,  she  would 
have  liked  to  go  to  him  in  that  hour.  .  .  . 

In  Park  Street,  luncheon  was  half  over,  and  Nelson 
Langmaid  was  at  the  table  with  her  father.  The  lawyer 
glanced  at  her  curiously  as  she  entered  the  room,  and  his 
usual  word  of  banter,  she  thought,  was  rather  lame.  The 


"WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEERS,   SEE  NOT"    375 

two  went  on,  for  some  time,  discussing  a  railroad  suit  in 
Texas.  And  Alison,  as  she  hurried  through  her  meal, 
leaving  the  dishes  almost  untouched,  scarcely  heard  them. 
Once,  in  her  reverie,  her  thoughts  reverted  to  another 
Sunday  when  Hodder  had  sat,  an  honoured  guest,  in  the 
chair  which  Mr.  Langmaid  now  occupied.  .  .  . 

It  was  not  until  they  got  up  from  the  table  that  her 
father  turned  to  her. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  sermon  ?  "  he  asked. 

It  was  the  underlying  note  of  challenge  to  which  she 
responded. 

"The  only  good  sermon  I  have  ever  heard." 

Their  eyes  met.  Langmaid  looked  down  at  the  tip  of 
his  cigar. 

"Mr.  Hodder,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  "is  to  be  congratu 
lated." 

II 

Hodder,  when  the  service  was  over,  had  sought  the 
familiar  recess  in  the  robing-room,  the  words  which  he 
himself  had  spoken  still  ringing  in  his  ears.  And  then 
he  recalled  the  desperate  prayer  with  which  he  had  entered 
the  pulpit,  that  it  might  be  given  him  in  that  hour  what 
to  say:  the  vivid  memories  of  the  passions  and  miseries 
in  Dalton  Street,  the  sudden,  hot  response  of  indignation 
at  the  complacency  confronting  him.  His  voice  had 
trembled  with  anger.  .  .  .  He  remembered,  as  he  had 
paused  in  his  denunciation  of  these  who  had  eyes  and  saw 
not,  meeting  the  upturned  look  of  Alison  Parr,  and  his 
anger  had  turned  to  pity  for  their  blindness  —  which 
once  had  been  his  own;  and  he  had  gone  on  and  on, 
striving  to  interpret  for  them  his  new  revelation  of  the 
message  of  the  Saviour,  to  impress  upon  them  the  dread 
ful  yet  sublime  meaning  of  life  eternal.  And  it  was  in 
that  moment  the  vision  of  the  meaning  of  the  evolution 
of  his  race,  of  the  Prodigal  turning  to  responsibility  —  of 
which  he  once  had  had  a  glimpse  —  had  risen  before  his 
eyes  in  its  completeness  —  the  guiding  hand  of  God  in 


376  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

history!  The  Spirit  in  these  complacent  souls,  as  yet 
unstirred.  .  .  . 

So  complete,  now,  was  his  forgetfulness  of  self,  of  his 
future,  of  the  irrevocable  consequences  of  the  step  he  had 
taken,  that  it  was  only  gradually  he  became  aware  that 
some  one  was  standing  near  him,  and  with  a  start  he 
recognized  McCrae. 

"  There  are  some  waiting  to  speak  to  ye,"  his  assistant 
said. 

"  Oh  1  "  Hodder  exclaimed.  He  began,  mechanically, 
to  divest  himself  of  his  surplice.  McCrae  stood  by. 

"I'd  like  to  say  a  word,  first  —  if  ye  don't  mind  —  "  he 
began. 

The  rector  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"I'd  like  just  to  thank  ye  for  that  sermon  —  I  can  say 
no  more  now,"  said  McCrae;  he  turned  away,  and  left 
the  room  abruptly. 

This  characteristic  tribute  from  the  inarticulate,  loyal 
Scotchman  left  him  tingling.  .  .  .  He  made  his  way  to 
the  door  and  saw  the  people  in  the  choir  room,  standing 
silently,  in  groups,  looking  toward  him.  Some  one  spoke 
to  him,  and  he  recognized  Eleanor  Goodrich. 

"We  couldn't  help  coming,  Mr.  Hodder  —  just  to  tell 
you  how  much  we  admire  you.  It  was  wonderful,  what 
you  said." 

He  grew  hot  with  gratitude,  with  thankfulness  that 
there  were  some  who  understood  —  and  that  this  woman 
was  among  them,  and  her  husband.  .  .  .  Phil  Goodrich 
took  him  by  the  hand. 

"  I  can  understand  that  kind  of  religion,"  he  said. 
"  And,  if  necessary,  I  can  fight  for  it.  I  have  come  to 
enlist." 

"  And  I  can  understand  it,  too,"  added  the  sunburned 
Evelyn.  "I  hope  you  will  let  me  help." 

That  was  all  they  said,  but  Hodder  understood. 
Eleanor  Goodrich's  eyes  were  dimmed  as  she  smiled  on 
her  sister  and  her  husband  —  a  smile  that  bespoke  the 
purest  quality  of  pride.  And  it  was  then,  as  they  made 
way  for  others,  that  the  full  value  of  their  allegiance  was 


"WHICH   SAY   TO   THE   SEERS,    SEE   NOT"    377 

borne  in  upon  him,  and  he  grasped  the  fact  that  the  intan 
gible  barrier  which  had  separated  him  from  them  had  at 
last  been  broken  down.  His  look  followed  the  square 
shoulders  and  aggressive,  close-cropped  head  of  Phil 
Goodrich,  the  firm,  athletic  figure  of  Evelyn,  who  had 
represented  to  him  an  entire  class  of  modern  young 
women,  vigorous,  athletic,  with  a  scorn  of  cant  in  which 
he  secretly  sympathized,  hitherto  frankly  untouched  by 
spiritual  interests  of  any  sort.  She  had,  indeed,  once 
bluntly  told  him  that  church  meant  nothing  to  her.  .  .  . 

In  that  little  company  gathered  in  the  choir  room  were 
certain  members  of  his  congregation  whom,  had  he  taken 
thought,  he  would  least  have  expected  to  see.  There 
were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradley,  an  elderly  couple  who  had 
attended  St.  John's  for  thirty  years  ;  and  others  of  the 
same  unpretentious  element  of  his  parish  who  were 
finding  in  modern  life  an  increasingly  difficult  and  bewil 
dering  problem.  There  was  little  Miss  Tallant,  an  as 
siduous  guild  worker  whom  he  had  thought  the  most 
orthodox  of  persons ;  Miss  Ramsay,  who  taught  the  chil 
dren  of  the  Italian  mothers  ;  Mr.  Caxton,  the  organist,  a 
professed  free-thinker,  with  whom  Hodder  had  had  many 
a  futile  argument  ;  and  Martha  Preston,  who  told  him 
that  he  had  made  her  think  about  religion  seriously  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life. 

And  there  were  others,  types  equally  diverse.  Young 
men  of  the  choir,  and  others  whom  he  had  never  seen,  who 
informed  him  shyly  that  they  would  come  again,  and 
bring  their  friends.  .  .  . 

And  all  the  while,  in  the  background,  Hodder  had  been 
aware  of  a  familiar  face  —  Horace  Bentley's.  Beside 
him,  when  at  length  he  drew  near,  was  his  friend  Asa 
Waring  —  a  strangely  contrasted  type.  The  uncompro 
mising  eyes  of  a  born  leader  of  men  flashed  from  beneath 
the  heavy  white  eyebrows,  the  button  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour  gleaming  in  his  well-kept  coat  seemed  emblematic 
of  the  fire  which  in  his  youth  had  driven  him  forth  to 
fight  for  the  honour  of  his  country  —  a  fire  still  un- 
dimmed.  It  was  he  who  spoke  first. 


378  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  This  is  a  day  I  never  expected  to  see,  Mr.  Hodder," 
he  said,  "  for  it  has  brought  back  to  this  church  the  man 
to  whom  it  owes  its  existence.  Mr.  Bentley  did  more,  by 
his  labour  and  generosity,  his  true  Christianity,  his  char 
ity  and  his  wisdom,  for  St.  John's  than  any  other  individ 
ual.  It  is  you  who  have  brought  him  back,  and  I  wish 
personally  to  express  my  gratitude." 

Mr.  Bentley,  in  mild  reproof,  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  his  old  friend. 

"Ah,  Asa,"  he  protested,  "you  shouldn't  say  such 
things." 

"  Had  it  not  been  for  Mr.  Bentley,"  Hodder  explained, 
"  I  should  not  be  here  to-day." 

Asa  Waring  pierced  the  rector  with  his  eye,  appreciat 
ing  the  genuine  feeling  with  which  these  words  were 
spoken.  And  yet  his  look  contained  a  question. 

"  Mr.  Bentley,"  Hodder  added,  "  has  been  my  teacher 
this  summer." 

The  old  gentleman's  hand  trembled  a  little  on  the  gold- 
headed  stick. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  more  pride  to  me  than  I  can  express, 
sir,  that  you  are  the  rector  of  this  church  with  which  my 
most  cherished  memories  are  associated,"  he  said.  "  But 
I  cannot  take  any  part  of  the  credit  you  give  me  for  the 
splendid  vision  which  you  have  raised  up  before  us  to-day, 
for  your  inspired  interpretation  of  history,  of  the  mean 
ing  of  our  own  times.  You  have  moved  me,  you  have 
given  me  more  hope  and  courage  than  I  have  had  for 
many  a  long  year  —  and  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  am 
sure  that  God  will  prosper  and  guide  you  in  what  you 
have  so  nobly  undertaken." 

Mr.  Bentley  turned  away,  walking  towards  the  end  of 
the  room.  .  .  .  Asa  Waring  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  you  knew  him,  that  you  had  seen 
what  he  is  doing  —  what  he  has  done  in  this  city.  I  can 
not  trust  myself,  Mr.  Hodder,  to  speak  of  Horace  Bent- 
ley's  life.  ...  I  feel  too  strongly  on  the  subject.  I 
have  watched,  year  by  year,  this  detestable  spirit  of  greed, 
this  lust  for  money  and  power  creeping  over  our  country, 


"WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEEKS,   SEE  NOT"    379 

corrupting  our  people  and  institutions,  and  finally  taint 
ing  the  Church  itself.  You  have  raised  your  voice 
against  it,  and  I  respect  and  honour  and  thank  you  for  it, 
the  more  because  you  have  done  it  without  resorting  to 
sensation,  and  apparently  with  no  thought  of  yourself. 
And,  incidentally,  you  have  explained  the  Christian 
religion  to  me  as  I  have  never  had  it  explained  in  my  life. 

"I  need  not  tell  you  you  have  made  enemies  —  power 
ful  ones.  I  can  see  that  you  are  a  man,  and  that  you  are 
prepared  for  them.  They  will  leave  no  stone  unturned, 
will  neglect  no  means  to  put  you  out  and  disgrace  you. 
They  will  be  about  your  ears  to-morrow  —  this  afternoon, 
perhaps.  I  need  not  remind  you  that  the  outcome  is 
doubtful.  But  I  came  here  to  assure  you  of  my  friend 
ship  and  support  in  all  you  hope  to  accomplish  in  making 
the  Church  what  it  should  be.  In  any  event,  what  you 
have  done  to-day  will  be  productive  of  everlasting  good." 

In  a  corner  still  lingered  the  group  which  Mr.  Bentley 
had  joined.  And  Hodder,  as  he  made  his  way  towards  it, 
recognized  the  faces  of  some  of  those  who  composed  it. 
Sally  Grover  was  there,  and  the  young  women  who  lived 
in  Mr.  Bentley's  house,  and  others  whose  acquaintance  he 
had  made  during  the  summer.  Mrs.  Garvin  had  brought 
little  Dicky,  incredibly  changed  from  the  wan  little  figure 
he  had  first  beheld  in  the  stifling  back  room  in  Dalton 
Street ;  not  yet  robust,  but  freckled  and  tanned  by  the 
country  sun  and  wind.  The  child,  whom  he  had  seen 
constantly  in  the  interval,  ran  forward  joyfully,  and  Hod 
der  bent  down  to  take  his  hand.  .  .  . 

These  were  his  friends,  emblematic  of  the  new  relation 
ship  in  which  he  stood  to  mankind.  And  he  owed  them 
to  Horace  Bentley  !  He  wondered,  as  he  greeted  them, 
whether  they  knew  what  their  allegiance  meant  to  him  in 
this  hour.  But  it  sufficed  that  they  claimed  him  as  their 
own. 

Behind  them  all  stood  Kate  Marcy.  And  it  struck  him 
for  the  first  time,  as  he  gazed  at  her  earnestly,  how  her 
appearance  had  changed.  She  gave  him  a  frightened, 
bewildered  look,  as  though  she  were  unable  to  identify 


380  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

him  now  with  the  man  she  had  known  in  the  Dalton 
Street  flat,  in  the  restaurant.  She  was  still  struggling, 
groping,  wondering,  striving  to  accustom  herself  to  the 
higher  light  of  another  world. 

"  I  wanted  to  come,"  she  faltered.  "  Sally  Grover 
brought  me.  ..." 

Hodder  went  back  with  them  to  Dalton  Street.  His 
new  ministry  had  begun.  And  on  this,  the  first  day  of  it. 
it  was  fitting  that  he  should  sit  at  the  table  of  Horace 
Bentley,  even  as  on  that  other  Sunday,  two  years  agone, 
he  had  gone  to  the  home  of  the  first  layman  of  the  diocese, 
Eldon  Parr. 

ill 

The  peace  of  God  passes  understanding  because  sorrow 
and  joy  are  mingled  therein,  sorrow  and  joy  and  striving. 
And  thus  the  joy  of  emancipation  may  be  accompanied  by 
a  heavy  heart.  The  next  morning,  when  Hodder  entered 
his  study,  he  sighed  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the  unusual  pile 
of  letters  on  his  desk,  for  their  writers  had  once  been  his 
friends.  The  inevitable  breach  had  come  at  last. 

Most  of  the  letters,  as  he  had  anticipated,  were  painful 
reading.  And  the  silver  paper-cutter  with  which  he 
opened  the  first  had  been  a  Christmas  present  from  Mrs. 
Burlingame,  who  had  penned  it,  a  lady  of  signal  devotion 
to  the  church,  who  for  many  years  had  made  it  her  task 
to  supply  and  arrange  the  flowers  on  the  altar.  He  had 
amazed  and  wounded  her  —  she  declared  —  inexpressibly, 
and  she  could  no  longer  remain  at  St.  John's  —  for  the 
present,  at  least.  A  significant  addition.  He  dropped 
the  letter,  and  sat  staring  out  of  the  window  .  .  .  pres 
ently  arousing  himself,  setting  himself  resolutely  to  the 
task  of  reading  the  rest. 

In  the  mood  in  which  he  found  himself  he  did  not  stop 
to  philosophize  on  the  rigid  yet  sincere  attitude  of  the 
orthodox.  His  affection  for  many  of  them  curiously  re 
mained,  though  it  was  with  some  difficulty  he  strove  to 
reconstruct  a  state  of  mind  with  which  he  had  once 


"WHICH   SAY   TO   THE   SEEKS,   SEE   NOT"    381 

agreed.  If  Christianity  were  to  sweep  on,  these  few  un 
bending  but  faithful  ones  must  be  sacrificed:  such  was 
the  law.  .  .  .  Many,  while  repudiating  his  new  beliefs 
—  or  unbeliefs  !  —  added,  to  their  regrets  of  the  change  in 
him,  protestations  of  a  continued  friendship,  a  conviction 
of  his  sincerity.  Others,  like  Mrs.  Atterbury,  were 
frankly  outraged  and  bitter.  The  contents  of  one  lilac- 
bordered  envelope  brought  to  his  eyes  a  faint  smile.  Did 
he  know  —  asked  the  sender  of  this  —  could  he  know  the 
consternation  he  had  caused  in  so  many  persons,  including 
herself?  What  was  she  to  believe?  And  wouldn't  he 
lunch  with  her  on  Thursday  ? 

Mrs.  Ferguson's  letter  brought  another  smile  —  more 
thoughtful.  Her  incoherent  phrases  had  sprung  from  the 
heart,  and  the  picture  rose  before  him  of  the  stout  but 
frightened,  good-natured  lady  who  had  never  accustomed 
herself  to  the  enjoyment  of  wealth  and  luxury.  Mr. 
Ferguson  was  in  such  a  state,  and  he  must  please  not  tell 
her  husband  that  she  had  written.  Yet  much  in  his  ser 
mon  had  struck  her  as  so  true.  It  seemed  wrong  to  her  to 
have  so  much,  and  others  so  little  !  And  he  had  made  her 
remember  many  things  in  her  early  life  she  had  forgotten. 
She  hoped  he  would  see  Mr.  Ferguson,  and  talk  to 
him.  .  .  . 

Then  there  was  Mrs.  Constable's  short  note,  that  troubled 
and  puzzled  him.  This,  too,  had  in  it  an  undercurrent  of 
fear,  and  the  memory  came  to  him  of  the  harrowing  after 
noon  he  had  once  spent  with  her,  when  she  would  have 
seemed  to  have  predicted  the  very  thing  which  had  now 
happened  to  him.  And  yet  not  that  thing.  He  divined 
instinctively  that  a  maturer  thought  on  the  subject  of  his 
sermon  had  brought  on  an  uneasiness  as  the  full  conse 
quences  of  this  new  teaching  had  dawned  upon  her  — 
consequences  which  she  had  not  foreseen  when  she  had 
foretold  the  change.  And  he  seemed  to  read  between 
the  lines  that  the  renunciation  he  demanded  was  too 
great.  .  .  .  Would  he  not  let  her  come  and  talk  to 
him?  .  .  . 

Miss  Brewer,  a  lady  of  no  inconsiderable  property,  was 


382  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

among  those  who  told  him  plainly  that  if  he  remained 
they  would  have  to  give  up  their  pews.  Three  or  four 
communications  were  even  more  threatening.  Mr.  Alpheus 
Gore,  Mrs.  Plimpton's  brother,  who  at  five  and  forty  had 
managed  to  triple  his  share  of  the  Gore  inheritance, 
wrote  that  it  would  be  his  regretful  duty  to  send  to  the 
bishop  an  Information  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Hodder's 
sermon. 

There  were,  indeed,  a  few  letters  which  he  laid,  thank 
fully,  in  a  pile  by  themselves.  These  were  mostly  from 
certain  humble  members  of  his  parish  who  had  not  fol 
lowed  their  impulses  to  go  to  him  after  the  service,  or 
from  strangers  who  had  chanced  to  drop  into  the  church. 
Some  were  autobiographical,  such  as  those  of  a  trained 
nurse,  a  stenographer,  a  hardware  clerk  who  had  sat  up 
late  Sunday  night  to  summarize  what  that  sermon  had 
meant  to  him,  how  a  gray  and  hopeless  existence  had  taken 
on  a  new  colour.  Next  Sunday  he  would  bring  a  friend 
who  lived  in  the  same  boarding  house.  .  .  .  Hodder 
read  every  word  of  these,  and  all  were  in  the  same  strain: 
at  last  they  could  perceive  a  meaning  to  religion,  an  appli 
cation  of  it  to  such  plodding  lives  as  theirs.  .  .  . 

One  or  two  had  not  understood,  but  had  been  stirred, 
and  were  coming  to  talk  to  him.  Another  was  filled  with 
a  venomous  class  hatred.  .  .  . 

The  first  intimation  he  had  of  the  writer  of  another 
letter  seemed  from  the  senses  rather  than  the  intellect.  A 
warm  glow  suffused  him,  mounted  to  his  temples  as  he 
stared  at  the  words,  turned  over  the  sheet,  and  read  at  the 
bottom  the  not  very  legible  signature.  The  handwriting, 
by  no  means  classic,  became  then  and  there  indelibly 
photographed  on  his  brain,  and  summed  up  for  him  the 
characteristics,  the  warring  elements  in  Alison  Parr.  "  All 
afternoon,"  she  wrote,  "I  have  been  thinking  of  your 
sermon.  It  was  to  me  very  wonderful  —  it  lifted  me  out 
of  myself.  And  oh,  I  want  so  much  to  believe  unre 
servedly  what  you  expressed  so  finely,  that  religion  is 
democracy,  or  the  motive  power  behind  democracy  —  the 
service  of  humanity  by  the  reborn.  I  understand  it  in- 


"WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEERS,   SEE  NOT"    383 

tellectually.  I  am  willing  to  work  for  such  a  Cause,  but 
there  is  something  in  me  so  hard  that  I  wonder  if  it  can 
dissolve.  And  then  I  am  still  unable  to  identify  that 
Cause  with  the  Church  as  at  present  constituted,  with  the 
dogmas  and  ceremonies  that  still  exist.  I  am  too  thorough 
a  radical  to  have  your  patience.  And  I  am  filled  with 
rage  —  I  can  think  of  no  milder  word  —  on  coming  in 
contact  with  the  living  embodiments  of  that  old  creed, 
who  hold  its  dogmas  so  precious.  '  Which  say  to  the 
seers,  See  not ;  and  to  the  prophets,  Prophesy  not  unto 
us  right  things,  speak  unto  us  smooth  things,  prophesy 
deceits.' 

"  You  see,  I  have  been  reading  Isaiah,  and  when  I  came 
to  that  paragraph  it  seemed  so  appropriate.  These  people 
have  always  existed.  And  will  they  not  always  continue 
to  exist?  I  wish  I  could  believe,  wholly  and  unre 
servedly,  that  this  class,  always  preponderant  in  the 
world,  could  be  changed,  diminished  —  done  away  with  in 
a  brighter  future !  I  can,  at  least,  sympathize  with 
Isaiah's  wrath. 

"  What  you  said  of  the  longing,  the  yearning  which 
exists  to-day  amongst  the  inarticulate  millions  moved  me 
most  —  and  of  the  place  of  art  in  religion,  to  express  that 
yearning.  Religion  the  motive  power  of  art,  and  art,  too, 
service.  'Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field.'  You  have 
made  it,  at  least,  all-comprehensive,  have  given  me  a  new 
point  of  view  for  which  I  can  never  be  sufficiently  grateful 
—  and  at  a  time  when  I  needed  it  desperately.  That  you 
have  dared  to  do  what  you  have  done  has  been  and  will 
be  an  inspiration,  not  only  to  myself,  but  to  many  others. 
This  is  a  longer  letter,  I  believe,  than  I  have  ever  written 
in  my  life.  But  I  wanted  you  to  know." 

He  reread  it  twice,  pondering  over  its  phrases.  "  A 
new  point  of  view  .  .  .  at  a  time  when  I  needed  it  des 
perately"  It  was  not  until  then  that  he  realized  the  full 
intensity  of  his  desire  for  some  expression  from  her  since 
the  moment  he  had  caught  sight  of  her  in  the  church. 
But  he  had  not  been  prepared  for  the  unreserve,  the 
impulsiveness  with  which  she  had  actually  written.  Such 


384  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

was  his  agitation  that  he  did  not  heed,  at  first,  a  knock  on 
the  door,  which  was  repeated.  He  thrust  the  letter  inside 
his  coat  as  the  janitor  of  the  parish  house  appeared. 

"  There  is  a  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir,  in  the  office," 
he  said. 

Hodder  went  down  the  stairs.  And  he  anticipated, 
from  the  light  yet  nervous  pacing  that  he  heard  on  the 
bare  floor,  that  the  visitor  was  none  other  than  his  vestry 
man,  Mr.  Gordon  Atterbury.  The  sight  of  the  gentle 
man's  spruce  figure  confirmed  the  guess. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Atterbury,"  he  said  as  he  entered. 

Mr.  Atterbury  stopped  in  his  steps,  as  if  he  had  heard 
a  shot. 

"  Ah  —  good  morning,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  stopped  in  on 
my  way  to  the  office." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  rector. 

Mr.  Atterbury  sat  down,  but  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  does  so  under  protest,  who  had  not  intended  to.  He 
was  visibly  filled  and  almost  quivering  with  an  excitement 
which  seemed  to  demand  active  expression,  and  which 
the  tall  clergyman's  physical  calm  and  self-possession 
seemed  to  augment.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Atterbury 
stared  at  the  rector  as  he  sat  behind  his  desk.  Then  he 
cleared  his  throat. 

"  I  thought  of  writing  to  you,  Mr.  Hodder.  My 
mother,  I  believe,  has  done  so.  But  it  seemed  to  me,  on 
second  thought,  better  to  come  to  you  direct." 

The  rector  nodded,  without  venturing  to  remark  on  the 
wisdom  of  the  course. 

"  It  occurred  to  me,"  Mr.  Atterbury  went  on,  "  that 
possibly  some  things  I  wish  to  discuss  might  —  ahem  — 
be  dispelled  in  a  conversation.  That  I  might  conceivably 
have  misunderstood  certain  statements  in  your  sermon  of 
yesterday." 

"  I  tried,"  said  the  rector,  "  to  be  as  clear  as  possible." 

"  I  thought  you  might  not  fully  have  realized  the  effect 
of  what  you  said.  I  ought  to  tell  you,  I  think,  that  as 
soon  as  I  reached  home  I  wrote  out,  as  accurately  as  I 
could  from  memory,  the  gist  of  your  remarks.  And  I 


"WHICH   SAY   TO   THE   SEEKS,   SEE   NOT7'    385 

must  say  frankly,  although  I  try  to  put  it  mildly,  that 
they  appear  to  contradict  and  controvert  the  doctrines  of 
the  Church." 

"  Which  doctrines  ?  "  Hodder  asked. 

Gordon  Atterbury  sputtered. 

"  Which  doctrines  ?  "  he  repeated.  "  Can  it  be  possible 
that  you  misunderstand  me  ?  I  might  refer  you  to  those 
which  you  yourself  preached  as  late  as  last  June,  in  a 
sermon  which  was  one  of  the  finest  and  most  scholarly 
efforts  I  ever  heard." 

"  It  was  on  that  day,  Mr.  Atterbury,"  replied  the 
rector,  with  a  touch  of  sadness  in  his  voice,  "  I  made  the 
discovery  that  fine  and  scholarly  efforts  were  not  Chris 
tianity." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Mr.  Atterbury  demanded. 

"  I  mean  that  they  do  not  succeed  in  making  Christians." 

"  And  by  that  you  imply  that  the  members  of  your  con 
gregation,  those  who  have  been  brought  up  and  baptized 
and  confirmed  in  this  church,  are  not  Christians  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  a  great  many  of  them  are  not,"  said 
the  rector. 

"  In  other  words,  you  affirm  that  the  sacrament  of 
baptism  is  of  no  account." 

"  I  affirm  that  baptism  with  water  is  not  sufficient." 

"  I'm  afraid  that  this  is  very  grave,"  Mr.  Hodder. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,"  replied  the  rector,  looking 
straight  at  his  vestryman. 

"  And  I  understood,  —  "  the  other  went  on,  clearing 
his  throat  once  more,  "  I  think  I  have  it  correctly  stated 
in  my  notes,  but  I  wish  to  be  quite  clear,  that  you 
denied  the  doctrine  of  the  virgin  birth." 

Hodder  made  a  strong  effort  to  control  himself. 

"  What  I  have  said  I  have  said,"  he  answered,  "  and  I 
have  said  it  in  the  hope  that  it  might  make  some  im 
pression  upon  the  lives  of  those  to  whom  I  spoke.  You 
were  one  of  them,  Mr.  Atterbury.  And  if  I  repeat  and 
amplify  my  meaning  now,  it  must  be  understood  that  I 
have  no  other  object  except  that  of  putting  you  in  the 
way  of  seeing  that  the  religion  of  Christ  is  unique  in  that 
2c 


386  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

it  is  dependent  upon  no  doctrine  or  dogma,  upon  no 
external  or  material  sign  or  proof  or  authority  whatever. 
I  am  utterly  indifferent  to  any  action  you  may  contem 
plate  taking  concerning  me.  Read  your  four  Gospels 
carefully.  If  we  do  not  arrive,  through  contemplation  of 
our  Lord's  sojourn  on  this  earth,  of  his  triumph  over 
death,  of  his  message  —  which  illuminates  the  meaning  of 
our  lives  here  —  at  that  inner  spiritual  conversion  of 
which  he  continually  speaks,  and  which  alone  will  give 
us  charity,  we  are  not  Christians." 

"But  the  doctrines  of  the  Church,  which  we  were 
taught  from  childhood  to  believe?  The  doctrines  which 
you  once  professed,  and  of  which  you  have  now  made 
such  an  unlooked-for  repudiation  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  changed,"  said  the  rector,  gazing  seriously 
at  the  twitching  figure  of  his  vestryman,  "  I  was  bound, 
body  and  soul,  by  those  very  doctrines."  He  roused  him 
self.  "But  on  what  grounds  do  you  declare,  Mr.  Atter- 
bury,"  he  demanded,  somewhat  sternly,  "  that  this  church 
is  fettered  by  an  ancient  and  dogmatic  conception  of 
Christianity  ?  Where  are  you  to  find  what  are  called  the 
doctrines  of  the  Church?  What  may  be  heresy  in  one 
diocese  is  not  so  in  another,  and  I  can  refer  to  you  vol 
umes  written  by  ministers  of  this  Church,  in  good  stand 
ing,  whose  published  opinions  are  the  same  as  those  I 
expressed  in  my  sermon  of  yesterday.  The  very  corner 
stone  of  the  Church  is  freedom,  but  many  have  yet  to  dis 
cover  this,  and  we  have  held  in  our  Communion  men  of 
such  divergent  views  as  Dr.  Pusey  and  Phillips  Brooks. 
Mr.  Newman,  in  his  Tract  Ninety,  which  was  sincerely 
written,  showed  that  the  Thirty-nine  Articles  were  capa 
ble  of  almost  any  theological  interpretation.  From  what 
authoritative  source  are  we  to  draw  our  doctrines?  In 
the  baptismal  service  the  articles  of  belief  are  stated  to  be 
in  the  Apostles'  Creed,  but  nowhere  —  in  this  Church  — 
is  it  defined  how  their  ancient  language  is  to  be  inter 
preted.  That  is  wisely  left  to  the  individuaj.  Shall  we 
interpret  the  Gospels  by  the  Creeds,  which  in  turn  purport 
to  be  interpretations  of  the  Gospels?  Or  shall  we  draw 


"WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEEES,   SEE  NOT"    387 

our  conclusions  as  to  what  the  Creeds  may  mean  to  us  by 
pondering  on  the  life  of  Christ,  and  striving  to  do  his  will? 
'The  letter  killeth,  but  the  Spirit  maketh  alive." 

Hodder  rose,  and  stood  facing  his  visitor  squarely.  He 
spoke  slowly,  and  the  fact  that  he  made  no  gesture  gave 
all  the  more  force  to  his  words. 

"Hereafter,  Mr.  Atterbury,"  he  added,  "so  long  as  I 
am  rector  of  this  church,  I  am  going  to  do  my  best  to 
carry  out  the  spirit  of  Christ's  teaching  —  to  make  Chris 
tians.  And  there  shall  be  no  more  compromise,  so  far  as 
I  can  help  it." 

Gordon  Atterbury  had  grown  very  pale.  He,  too,  got 
to  his  feet. 

"I  —  I  cannot  trust  myself  to  discuss  this  matter  with 
you  any  further,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  feel  too  deeply  —  too 
strongly  on  the  subject.  I  do  not  pretend  to  account  for 
this  astonishing  transformation  in  your  opinions.  Up  to 
the  present  I  have  deemed  St.  John's  fortunate  —  pecul 
iarly  fortunate,  in  having  you  for  its  rector.  I  am  bound 
to  say  I  think  you  have  not  considered,  in  this  change  of 
attitude  on  your  part,  those  who  have  made  St.  John's 
what  it  is,  who  through  long  and  familiar  association  are 
bound  to  it  by  a  thousand  ties,  —  those  who,  like  myself, 
have  what  may  be  called  a  family  interest  in  this  church. 
My  father  and  mother  were  married  here,  I  was  baptized 
here.  I  think  I  may  go  so  far  as  to  add,  Mr.  Hodder, 
that  this  is  our  church,  the  church  which  a  certain  group 
of  people  have  built  in  which  to  worship  God,  as  was  their 
right.  Nor  do  I  believe  we  can  be  reproached  with  a  lack 
of  hospitality  or  charity.  We  maintain  this  parish  house, 
with  its  clubs  ;  and  at  no  small  inconvenience  to  ourselves 
we  have  permitted  the  church  to  remain  in  this  district. 
There  is  no  better  church  music  in  this  city,  and  we  have 
a  beautiful  service  in  the  evening  at  which  all  pews  are 
free.  It  is  not  unreasonable  that  we  should  have  some 
thing  to  say  concerning  the  doctrine  to  be  preached  here, 
that  we  should  insist  that  that  doctrine  be  in  accordance 
with  what  we  have  always  believed  was  the  true  doctrine, 
as  received  by  this  Church." 


388  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Up  to  this  point  Mr.  Atterbury  had  had  a  feeling  that 
he  had  not  carried  out  with  much  distinction  the  pro 
gramme  which  he  had  so  carefully  rehearsed  on  the  way 
to  the  parish  house.  Hodder's  poise  had  amazed  and 
baffled  him  —  he  had  expected  to  find  the  rector  on  the 
defensive.  But  now,  burning  anew  with  a  sense  of  injus 
tice,  he  had  a  sense  at  last  of  putting  his  case  strongly. 

The  feeling  of  triumph,  however,  was  short  lived.  Rod 
der  did  not  reply  at  once.  So  many  seconds,  indeed,  went 
by  that  Mr.  Atterbury  began  once  more  to  grow  slightly 
nervous  under  the  strange  gaze  to  which  he  was  subjected. 
And  when  the  clergyman  spoke  there  was  no  anger  in  his 
voice,  but  a  quality  —  a  feeling  which  was  disturbing, 
and  difficult  to  define. 

"  You  are  dealing  now,  Mr.  Atterbury,"  he  said,  "  with 
the  things  of  Csesar,  not  of  God.  This  church  belongs 
to  God  —  not  to  you.  But  you  have  consecrated  it  to 
him.  His  truth,  as  Christ  taught  it,  must  not  be  preached 
to  suit  any  man's  convenience.  When  you  were  young 
you  were  not  taught  the  truth  —  neither  was  I.  It  was 
mixed  with  adulterations  which  obscured  and  almost 
neutralized  it.  But  I  intend  to  face  it  now,  and  to 
preach  it,  and  not  the  comfortable  compromise  which 
gives  us  the  illusion  that  we  are  Christians  because  we 
subscribe  to  certain  tenets,  and  permits  us  to  neglect  our 
Christian  duties. 

"  And  since  you  have  spoken  of  charity,  let  me  assure 
you  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  charity  without  the 
transforming,  personal  touch.  It  isn't  the  bread  or  in 
struction  or  amusement  we  give  people  vicariously,  but 
the  effect  of  our  gift  —  even  if  that  gift  be  only  a  cup  of 
cold  water  —  in  illuminating  and  changing  their  lives. 
And  it  will  avail  any  church  little  to  have  a  dozen  settle 
ment  houses  while  her  members  acquiesce  in  a  State  which 
refuses  to  relieve  her  citizens  from  sickness  and  poverty. 
Charity  bends  down  only  to  lift  others  up.  And  with  all 
our  works,  our  expenditure  and  toil,  how  many  have  we 
lifted  up?" 

Gordon  Atterbury's  indignation  got  the  better  of  him. 


"WHICH   SAY  TO   THE   SEEKS,   SEE  NOT"    389 

For  he  was  the  last  man  to  behold  with  patience  the 
shattering  of  his  idols. 

"I  think  you  have  cast  an  unwarranted  reflection  on 
those  who  have  built  and  made  this  church  what  it  is, 
Mr.  Hodder,"  he  exclaimed.  "And  that  you  will  find 
there  are  in  it  many  —  a  great  many  —  earnest  Christians 
who  were  greatly  shocked  by  the  words  you  spoke  yester 
day,  who  will  not  tolerate  any  interference  with  their 
faith.  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  speak  frankly,  Mr  Hodder, 
disagreeable  though  it  be,  in  view  of  our  former  rela 
tions.  I  must  tell  you  that  I  am  not  alone  in  the  opinion 
that  you  should  resign.  It  is  the  least  you  can  do,  in 
justice  to  us,  in  justice  to  yourself.  There  are  other 
bodies  —  I  cannot  call  them  churches  —  which  doubtless 
would  welcome  your  liberal,  and  I  must  add  atrophying, 
interpretation  of  Christianity.  And  I  trust  that  reflec 
tion  will  convince  you  of  the  folly  of  pushing  this  matter 
to  the  extreme.  We  should  greatly  deplore  the  sensa 
tional  spectacle  of  St.  John's  being  involved  in  an  eccle 
siastical  trial,  the  unpleasant  notoriety  into  which  it  would 
bring  a  church  hitherto  untouched  by  that  sort  of  thing. 
And  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I,  among  others,  am  about 
to  send  an  Information  to  the  bishop." 

Gordon  Atterbury  hesitated  a  moment,  but  getting  no 
reply  save  an  inclination  of  the  head,  took  up  his  hat. 

"  Ahem  - — I  think  that  is  all  I  have  to  say,  Mr.  Hodder. 
Good  morning." 

Even  then  Hodder  did  not  answer,  but  rose  and 
held  open  the  door.  As  he  made  his  exit  under  the  strange 
scrutiny  of  the  clergyman's  gaze  the  little  vestryman  was 
plainly  uncomfortable.  He  cleared  his  throat  once  more, 
halted,  and  then  precipitately  departed. 

Hodder  went  to  the  window  and  thoughtfully  watched 
the  hurrying  figure  of  Mr.  Atterbury  until  it  disappeared, 
almost  skipping,  around  the  corner.  .  .  .  The  germ  of 
truth,  throughout  the  centuries,  had  lost  nothing  of  its 
dynamic  potentialities.  If  released  and  proclaimed  it  was 
still  powerful  enough  to  drive  the  world  to  insensate 
anger  and  opposition.  .  .  . 


390  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

As  he  stood  there,  lost  in  reflection,  a  shining  automo< 
bile  drew  up  at  the  curb,  and  from  it  descended  a  firm 
lady  in  a  tight-fitting  suit  whom  he  recognized  as  Mrs. 
Wallis  Plimpton.  A  moment  later  she  had  invaded  the 
office  —  for  no  less  a  word  may  be  employed  to  express 
her  physical  aggressiveness,  the  glowing  health  which  she 
radiated. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Hodder,"  she  said,  seating  herself 
in  one  of  the  straight-backed  chairs.  "I  have  been  so 
troubled  since  you  preached  that  sermon  yesterday,  I  could 
scarcely  sleep.  And  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  come  to  you 
the  first  thing  this  morning.  Mr.  Plimpton  and  I  have 
been  discussing  it.  In  fact,  people  are  talking  of  nothing 
else.  We  dined  with  the  Laureston  Greys  last  night, 
and  they,  too,  were  full  of  it."  Charlotte  Plimpton  looked 
at  him,  and  the  flow  of  her  words  suddenly  diminished. 
And  she  added,  a  little  lamely  for  her,  "  Spiritual  matters 
in  these  days  are  so  difficult,  aren't  they  ?  " 

"Spiritual  matters  always  were  difficult,  Mrs.  Plimp 
ton,"  he  said. 

"  I  suppose  so,''  she  assented  hurriedly,  with  what  was 
intended  for  a  smile.  "  But  what  I  came  to  ask  you  is 
this  :  what  are  we  to  teach  our  children  ?  " 

"  Teach  them  the  truth,"  the  rector  replied. 

"  One  of  the  things  which  troubled  me  most  was  your 
reference  to  modern  criticism,"  she  went  on,  recovering 
her  facility.  "  I  was  brought  up  to  believe  that  the  Bible 
was  true.  The  governess  —  Miss  Standish,  you  know, 
such  a  fine  type  of  Englishwoman  —  reads  the  children 
Bible  stories  every  Sunday  evening.  They  adore  them, 
and  little  Wallis  can  repeat  them  almost  by  heart  —  the 
pillar  of  cloud  by  day,  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den,  and  the 
Wise  Men  from  the  East.  If  they  aren't  true,  some  one 
ought  to  have  told  us  before  now." 

A  note  of  injury  had  crept  into  her  voice. 

"  How  do  you  feel  about  these  things  yourself  ?  "  Hod 
der  inquired. 

"  How  do  I  feel  ?  Why,  I  have  never  thought  about 
them  very  much  —  they  were  there,  in  the  Bible  I  " 


"WHICH   SAY   TO   THE   SEERS,   SEE   NOT"    391 

"  You  were  taught  to  believe  them  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  she  exclaimed,  resenting  what  seemed  a 
reflection  on  the  Gore  orthodoxy. 

"  Do  they  in  any  manner  affect  your  conduct  ?  " 

"  My  conduct  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  I  don't  know  what 
you  mean.  I  was  brought  up  in  the  church,  and  Mr. 
Plimpton  has  always  gone,  and  we  are  bringing  up  the 
children  to  go.  Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  No,"  Hodder  answered,  patiently,  "  that  is  not  what  I 
mean.  I  ask  whether  these  stories  in  any  way  enter  into 
your  life,  become  part  of  you,  and  tend  to  make  you  a 
more  useful  woman  ?  " 

"Well  —  I  have  never  considered  them  in  that  way," 
she  replied,  a  little  perplexed. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  them  yourself  ?  " 

"Why  —  I  don't  know,  —  I've  never  thought.  I  don't 
suppose  I  do,  absolutely  —  not  in  those  I  have  mentioned." 

"  And  you  think  it  right  to  teach  things  to  your  children 
which  you  do  not  yourself  believe  ?  " 

"  How  am  I  to  decide  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  First  by  finding  out  yourself  what  you  do  believe,"  he 
replied,  with  a  touch  of  severity. 

"  Mr.  Hodder  !  "  she  cried  in  a  scandalized  voice,  "  do 
you  mean  to  say  that  I,  who  have  been  brought  up  in  this 
church,  do  not  know  what  Christianity  is  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  and  shook  his  head. 

"  You  must  begin  by  being  honest  with  yourself,"  he 
went  on,  not  heeding  her  shocked  expression.  "  If  you 
are  really  in  earnest  in  this  matter,  I  should  be  glad  to 
help  you  all  I  can.  But  I  warn  you  there  is  no  achieve 
ment  in  the  world  more  difficult  than  that  of  becoming  a 
Christian.  It  means  a  conversion  of  your  whole  being  — 
something  which  you  cannot  now  even  imagine.  It  means 
a  consuming  desire  which,  —  I  fear,  —  in  consideration  of 
your  present  mode  of  life,  will  be  difficult  to  acquire." 

"  My  present  mode  of  life  !  "  she  gasped. 

"Precisely,"  said  the  rector.  He  was  silent,  regarding 
her.  There  was  discernible  not  the  slightest  crack  01 
crevice  in  the  enamel  of  this  woman's  worldly  armour. 


392  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

For  the  moment  her  outraged  feelings  were  forgotten. 
The  man  had  fascinated  her.  To  be  told,  in  this  authori 
tative  manner,  that  she  was  wicked  was  a  new  and  delight 
ful  experience.  It  brought  back  to  her  the  real  motive  of 
her  visit,  which  had  in  reality  been  inspired  not  only  by 
the  sermon  of  the  day  before,  but  by  sheer  curiosity. 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"Find  yourself." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  I  am  not  —  myself  ?  "  she 
asked,  now  completely  bewildered. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  you  are  nobody  until  you  achieve 
conviction." 

For  Charlotte  Plimpton,  nee  Gore,  to  be  told  in  her  own 
city,  by  the  rector  of  her  own  church  that  she  was  nobody 
was  an  event  hitherto  inconceivable  !  It  was  perhaps  as 
extraordinary  that  she  did  not  resent  it.  Curiosity  still 
led  her  on. 

"Conviction?"  she  repeated.  "But  I  have  convic 
tion,  Mr.  Hodder.  I  believe  in  the  doctrines  of  the 
Church." 

"  Belief  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  checked  himself  strongly. 
"  Conviction  through  feeling.  Not  until  then  will  you 
find  what  you  were  put  in  the  world  for." 

"  But  my  husband  —  my  children  ?  I  try  to  do  my 
duty." 

"  You  must  get  a  larger  conception  of  it,"  Hodder 
replied. 

"I  suppose  you  mean,"  she  declared,  "that  I  am  to 
spend  the  rest  of  my  life  in  charity." 

"  How  you  would  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  would  be 
revealed  to  you,"  said  the  rector. 

It  was  the  weariness  in  his  tone  that  piqued  her  now, 
the  intimation  that  he  did  not  believe  in  her  sincerity  — 
had  not  believed  in  it  from  the  first.  The  life-long  vanity 
of  a  woman  used  to  be  treated  with  consideration,  to  be 
taken  seriously,  was  aroused.  This  extraordinary  man 
had  refused  to  enter  into  the  details  which  she  inquisitively 
craved.  Charlotte  Plimpton  rose. 

"  I  shall  not  bother  you  any  longer  at  present,  Mr. 


"WHICH    SAY   TO   THE   SEERS,   SEE   NOT"    393 

Hodcler,"  she  said  sweetly.  "I  know  you  must  have, 
this  morning  especially,  a  great  deal  to  trouble  you." 

He  met  her  scrutiny  calmly. 

"  It  is  only  the  things  we  permit  to  trouble  us  that  do 
so,  Mrs.  Plimpton,"  he  replied.  "  My  own  troubles  have 
arisen  largely  from  a  lack  of  faith  on  the  part  of  those 
whom  I  feel  it  is  my  duty  to  influence." 

It  was  then  she  delivered  her  parting  shot,  which  she 
repeated,  with  much  satisfaction,  to  her  husband  that 
evening.  She  had  reached  the  door. 

"  Was  there  a  special  service  at  Calvary  yesterday  ? " 
she  asked  innocently,  turning  back. 

"Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  I  wondered.  Mr.  Parr  was  there,  I'm  told  —  and  he's 
never  been  known  to  desert  St.  John's  except  on  the 
rarest  occasions.  But  oh,  Mr.  Hodder,  I  must  con 
gratulate  you  on  your  influence  with  Alison.  When  she 
has  been  out  here  before  she  never  used  to  come  to  church 
at  all." 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

THE   CHOICE 


PONDERING  over  Alison's  note,  he  suddenly  recalled  and 
verified  some  phrases  which  had  struck  him  that  summer 
on  reading  Harnack's  celebrated  History  of  Dogma,  and 
around  these  he  framed  his  reply.  "  To  act  as  if  faith  in 
eternal  life  and  in  the  living  Christ  was  the  simplest  thing 
in  the  world,  or  a  dogma  to  which  one  has  to  submit,  is 
irreligious.  ...  It  is  Christian  to  pray  that  God 
would  give  the  Spirit  to  make  us  strong  to  overcome  the 
feelings  and  the  doubts  of  nature.  .  .  .  Where  this  faith, 
obtained  in  this  way,  exists,  it  has  always  been  supported 
by  the  conviction  that  the  Man  lives  who  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light.  To  hold  fast  this  faith  is  the  goal 
of  life,  for  only  what  we  consciously  strive  for  is  in  this 
matter  our  own.,  What  we  think  we  possess  is  very  soon 
lost." 

"  The  feelings  and  the  doubts  of  nature  !  "  The  Divine 
Discontent,  the  striving  against  the  doubt  that  every 
honest  soul  experiences  and  admits.  Thus  the  contrast 
between  her  and  these  others  who  accepted  and  went  their 
several  ways  was  brought  home  to  him. 

He  longed  to  talk  to  her,  but  his  days  were  full.  Yet 
the  very  thought  of  her  helped  to  bear  him  up  as  his 
trials,  his  problems  accumulated;  nor  would  he  at  any 
time  have  exchanged  them  for  the  former  false  peace 
which  had  been  bought  (he  perceived  more  and  more 
clearly)  at  the  price  of  compromise. 

The  worst  of  these  trials,  perhaps,  was  a  conspicuous 
article  in  a  newspaper  containing  a  garbled  account  of  his 
sermon  and  of  the  sensation  it  had  produced  amongst  his 

894 


THE   CHOICE  395 

fashionable  parishioners.  He  had  refused  to  see  the 
reporter,  but  he  had  been  made  out  a  hero,  a  socialistic 
champion  of  the  poor.  The  black  headlines  were  nauseat 
ing  ;  and  beside  them,  in  juxtaposition,  were  pen  portraits 
of  himself  and  of  Eldon  Parr.  There  were  rumours  that 
the  banker  had  left  the  church  until  the  recalcitrant  rector 
should  be  driven  out  of  it ;  the  usual  long  list  of  Mr. 
Parr's  benefactions  was  included,  and  certain  veiled 
paragraphs  concerning  his  financial  operations.  Mr. 
Ferguson,  Mr.  Plimpton,  Mr.  Constable,  did  not  escape,  — 
although  they,  too,  had  refused  to  be  interviewed.  .  .  . 
The  article  brought  to  the  parish  house  a  bevy  of 
reporters  who  had  to  be  fought  off,  and  another  batch  of 
letters,  many  of  them  from  ministers,  in  approval  or 
condemnation. 

His  fellow-clergymen  called,  some  to  express  sympathy 
and  encouragement,  more  of  them  to  voice  in  person  indig 
nant  and  horrified  protests.  Dr.  Annesley  of  Calvary  — 
a  counterpart  of  whose  rubicund  face  might  have  been 
found  in  the  Council  of  Trent  or  in  mediaeval  fish-mar 
kets —  pronounced  his  anathemas  with  his  hands  folded 
comfortably  over  his  stomach,  but  eventually  threw  to  the 
winds  every  vestige  of  his  ecclesiastical  dignity.  .  .  . 

Then  there  came  a  note  from  the  old  bishop,  who  was 
traveling.  A  kindly  note,  withal,  if  non-committal,  —  to 
the  effect  that  he  had  received  certain  communications, 
but  that  his  physician  would  not  permit  him  to  return  for 
another  ten  days  or  so.  He  would  then  be  glad  to  see 
Mr.  Hodder  and  talk  with  him. 

What  would  the  bishop  do?  Hodder's  relations  with 
him  had  been  more  than  friendly,  but  whether  the  bishop's 
views  were  sufficiently  liberal  to  support  him  in  the  ex 
treme  stand  he  had  taken  he  could  not  surmise.  For  it 
meant  that  the  bishop,  too,  must  enter  into  a  conflict  with 
the  first  layman  of  his  diocese,  of  whose  hospitality  he 
had  so  often  partaken,  whose  contributions  had  been  on 
so  lordly  a  scale.  The  bishop  was  in  his  seventieth  year, 
and  had  hitherto  successfully  fought  any  attempt  to 
supply  him  with  an  assistant,  —  coadjutor  or  suffragan. 


396  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

At  such  times  the  fear  grew  upon  ITodder  that  he  might 
be  recommended  for  trial,  forced  to  abandon  his  fight  to 
free  the  Church  from  the  fetters  that  bound  her :  that  the 
implacable  hostility  of  his  enemies  would  rob  him  of  his 
opportunity. 

Thus  ties  were  broken,  many  hard  things  were  said  and 
brought  to  his  ears.  There  were  vacancies  in  the  classes 
and  guilds,  absences  that  pained  him,  silences  that  wrung 
him.  .  .  . 

Of  all  the  conversations  he  held,  that  with  Mrs.  Con 
stable  was  perhaps  the  most  illuminating  and  distressing. 
As  on  that  other  occasion,  when  he  had  gone  to  her,  this 
visit  was  under  the  seal  of  confession,  unknown  to  her 
husband.  And  Hodder  had  been  taken  aback,  on  seeing 
her  enter  his  office,  by  the  very  tragedy  in  her  face  —  the 
tragedy  he  had  momentarily  beheld  once  before.  He 
drew  up  a  chair  for  her,  and  when  she  had  sat  down  she 
gazed  at  him  some  moments  without  speaking. 

"I  had  to  come,"  she  said;  "there  are  some  things  I 
feel  I  must  ask  you.  For  I  have  been  very  miserable 
since  I  heard  you  on  Sunday." 

He  nodded  gently. 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  change  your  views  —  become 
broader,  greater.  You  may  remember  that  I  predicted 
it." 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  I  thought  you  would  grow  more  liberal,  less  big 
oted,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so.  But  I  didn't  antici 
pate  —  "  she  hesitated,  and  looked  up  at  him  again. 

"  That  I  would  take  the  extreme  position  I  have  taken," 
he  assisted  her. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hodder,"  she  cried  impulsively,  "was  it  nec 
essary  to  go  so  far?  and  all  at  once?  I  am  here  not  only 
because  I  am  miserable,  but  I  am  concerned  on  your 
account.  You  hurt  me  very  much  that  day  you  came  to 
me,  but  you  made  me  your  friend.  And  I  wonder  if  you 
really  understand  the  terrible,  bitter  feeling  you  have 
aroused,  the  powerful  enemies  you  have  made  by  speaking 
so  —  so  unreservedly  ?  " 


THE   CHOICE  397 

"  I  was  prepared  for  it,"  he  answered.  "  Surely,  Mrs. 
Constable,  once  I  have  arrived  at  what  I  believe  to  be  the 
truth,  you  would  not  have  me  temporize?" 

She  gave  him  a  wan  smile. 

"  In  one  respect,  at  least,  you  have  not  changed,"  she 
told  him.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  the  temporizing 
kind.  But  wasn't  there,  —  mayn't  there  still  be  a  way 
to  deal  with  this  fearful  situation?  You  have  made  it 
very  hard  for  us  —  for  them.  You  have  given  them  no 
loophole  of  escape.  And  there  are  many,  like  me,  who 
do  not  wish  to  see  your  career  ruined,  Mr.  Hodder." 

"Would  you  prefer,"  he  asked,  "to  see  my  soul  de 
stroyed  ?  And  your  own  ?  " 

Her  lips  twitched. 

"  Isn't  there  any  other  way  but  that  ?  Can't  this  trans 
formation,  which  you  say  is  necessary  and  vital,  come 
gradually  ?  You  carried  me  away  as  I  listened  to  you,  — 
I  was  not  myself  when  I  came  out  of  the  church.  But  I 
have  been  thinking  ever  since.  Consider  my  husband, 
Mr.  Hodder,"  her  voice  faltered.  "I  shall  not  mince 
matters  with  you  —  I  know  you  will  not  pretend  to  mis 
understand  me.  I  have  never  seen  him  so  upset  since  — 
since  that  time  Gertrude  was  married.  He  is  in  a  most 
cruel  position.  1  confessed  to  you  once  that  Mr.  Parr  had 
made  for  us  all  the  money  we  possess.  Everett  is  fond  of 
you,  but  if  he  espouses  your  cause,  on  the  vestry,  we  shall 
be  ruined." 

Hodder  was  greatly  moved. 

"  It  is  not  my  cause,  Mrs.  Constable,"  he  said. 

"  Surely,  Christianity  is  not  so  harsh  and  uncompromis 
ing  as  that !  And  do  you  quite  do  justice  to  —  to  some  of 
these  men?  There  was  no  one  to  tell  them  the  wrongs 
they  were  committing  —  if  they  were  indeed  wrongs. 
Our  civilization  is  far  from  perfect." 

"  The  Church  may  have  been  remiss,  mistaken,"  the 
rector  replied.  "  But  the  Christianity  she  has  taught, 
adulterated  though  it  were,  has  never  condoned  the  acts 
which  have  become  commonplace  in  modern  finance. 
There  must  have  been  a  time,  in  the  life  of  every  one  of 


398  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

these  men,  when  they  had  to  take  that  first  step  against 
which  their  consciences  revolted,  when  they  realized 
that  fraud  and  taking  advantage  of  the  ignorant  and 
weak  were  wrong.  They  have  deliberately  preferred  grati 
fication  in  this  life  to  spiritual  development  —  if  indeed 
they  believe  in  any  future  whatsoever.  For  '  whosoever 
will  save  his  life  shall  lose  it '  is  as  true  to-day  as  it  ever 
was.  They  have  had  their  choice  —  they  still  have  it." 

"  I  am  to  blame,"  she  cried.  "  I  drove  my  husband  to 
it,  I  made  him  think  of  riches,  it  was  I  who  cultivated 
Mr.  Parr.  And  oh,  I  suppose  I  am  justly  punished.  I 
have  never  been  happy  for  one  instant  since  that  day." 

He  watched  her,  pityingly,  as  she  wept.  But  presently 
she  raised  her  face,  wonderingly. 

"You  do  believe  in  the  future  life  after  —  after  what 
you  have  been  through?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  answered  simply. 

"  Yes  —  I  am  sure  you  do.  It  is  that,  what  you  are, 
convinces  me  you  do.  Even  the  remarkable  and  sensible 
explanation  you  gave  of  it  when  you  interpreted  the 
parable  of  the  talents  is  not  so  powerful  as  the  impression 
that  you  yourself  believe  after  thinking  it  out  for  your 
self —  not  accepting  the  old  explanations.  And  then," 
she  added,  with  a  note  as  of  surprise,  "you  are  willing  to 
sacrifice  everything  for  it !  " 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Cannot  you,  too,  believe  to 
that  extent?" 

"Everything?"  she  repeated.  "It  would  mean  — 
poverty.  No  —  God  help  me  —  I  cannot  face  it.  I  have 
become  too  hard.  I  cannot  do  without  the  world.  And 
even  if  I  could  !  Oh,  you  cannot  know  what  you  ask  ! 
Everett,  my  husband  —  I  must  say  it,  you  make  me  tell 
you  everything  —  is  not  free.  He  is  little  better  than 
a  slave  to  Eldon  Parr.  I  hate  Eldon  Parr,"  she  added, 
with  startling  inconsequence. 

"If  I  had  only  known  what  it  would  lead  to  when  I 
made  Everett  what  he  is  !  But  I  knew  nothing  of  busi 
ness,  and  I  wanted  money,  position  to  satisfy  my  craving 
at  the  loss  of — that  other  thing.  And  now  I  couldn't 


THE   CHOICE  399 

change  my  husband  if  I  would.  He  hasn't  the  courage, 
he  hasn't  the  vision.  What  there  was  of  him,  long  ago, 
has  been  killed  —  and  I  killed  it.  He  isn't  —  anybody, 
now." 

She  relapsed  again  into  weeping. 

"  And  then  it  might  not  mean  only  poverty  —  it  might 
mean  disgrace." 

"  Disgrace  !  "  the  rector  involuntarily  took  up  the  word. 

"  There  are  some  things  he  has  done,"  she  said  in  a 
low  voice,  "which  he  thought  he  was  obliged  to  do  — 
which  Eldon  Parr  made  him  do." 

"But  Mr.  Parr,  too  —  ?"  Hodder  began. 

"  Oh,  it  was  to  shield  Eldon  Parr.  They  could  never 
be  traced  to  him.  And  if  they  ever  came  out,  it  would 
kill  my  husband.  Tell  me,"  she  implored,  "  what  can  I 
do  ?  What  shall  I  do?  You  are  responsible.  You  have 
made  me  more  bitterly  unhappy  than  ever." 

"Are  you  willing,"  he  asked,  after  a  moment,  "to 
make  the  supreme  renunciation  ?  to  face  poverty,  and 
perhaps  disgrace,  to  save  your  soul  and  others  ?  " 

"And  —  others?" 

"  Yes.  Your  sacrifice  would  not,  could  not  be  in  vain . 
Otherwise  I  should  be  merely  urging  on  you  the  individ 
ualism  which  you  once  advocated  with  me." 

"Renunciation."  She  pronounced  the  word  question- 
ingly.  "  Can  Christianity  really  mean  that  —  renuncia 
tion  of  the  world  ?  Must  we  take  it  in  the  drastic  sense 
of  the  Church  of  the  early  centuries — the  Church  of  the 
Martyrs  ?  " 

"  Christianity  demands  all  of  us,  or  nothing,"  he  re 
plied.  "  But  the  false  interpretation  of  renunciation  of 
the  early  Church  has  cast  its  blight  on  Christianity  even 
to  our  day.  Oriental  asceticism,  Stoicism,  Philo  and  other 
influences  distorted  Christ's  meaning.  Renunciation  does 
not  mean  asceticism,  retirement  from  the  world,  a  denial 
of  life.  And  the  early  Christian,  since  he  was  not  a 
citizen,  since  he  took  the  view  that  this  mortal  existence 
was  essentially  bad  and  kept  his  eyes  steadfastly  fixed 
on  another,  was  the  victim  at  once  of  false  philosophies 


400  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  of  the  literal  messianic  prophecies  of  the  Jews,  which 
were  taken  over  with  Christianity.  The  earthly  kingdom 
which  was  to  come  was  to  be  the  result  of  some  kind  of 
a  cataclysm.  Personally,  I  believe  our  Lord  merely  used 
the  Messianic  literature  as  a  convenient  framework  for  his 
spiritual  Kingdom  of  heaven,  and  that  the  Gospels  mis 
interpret  his  meaning  on  this  point. 

"  Renunciation  is  not  the  withdrawal  from,  the  denial 
of  life,  but  the  fulfilment  of  life,  the  submission  to  the 
divine  will  and  guidance  in  order  that  our  work  may  be 
shown  us.  Renunciation  is  the  assumption,  at  once,  of 
heavenly  and  earthly  citizenship,  of  responsibility  for 
ourselves  and  our  fellow-men.  It  is  the  realization  that 
the  other  world,  the  inner,  spiritual  world,  is  here,  now, 
and  that  the  soul  may  dwell  in  it  before  death,  while 
the  body  and  mind  work  for  the  coming  of  what  may 
be  called  the  collective  kingdom.  Life  looked  upon  in 
that  way  is  not  bad,  but  good,  —  not  meaningless,  but 
luminous." 

She  had  listened  hungrily,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  his  face. 

"  And  for  me  ?  "  she  questioned. 

"  For  you,"  he  answered,  leaning  forward  and  speaking 
with  a  conviction  that  shook  her  profoundly,  "  if  you 
make  the  sacrifice  of  your  present  unhappiness,  of  your 
misery,  all  will  be  revealed.  The  labour  which  you  have 
shirked,  which  is  now  hidden  from  you,  will  be  disclosed, 
you  will  justify  your  existence  by  taking  your  place  as 
an  element  of  the  community.  You  will  be  able  to  say 
of  yourself,  at  last,  '  I  am  of  use.' ' 

"  You  mean  —  social  work  ?" 

The  likeness  of  this  to  Mrs.  Plimpton's  question  struck 
him.  She  had  called  it  "  charity."  How  far  had  they 
wandered  in  their  teaching  from  the  Revelation  of  the 
Master,  since  it  was  as  new  and  incomprehensible  to  these 
so-called  Christians  as  to  Nicodemus  himself  ! 

"  All  Christian  work  is  social,  Mrs.  Constable,  but  it 
is  founded  on  love.  '  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself.'  You  hold  your  own  soul  precious,  since  it  is 
the  shrine  of  God.  And  for  that  reason  you  hold  equally 


THE   CHOICE  401 

precious  your  neighbour's  soul.  Love  comes  first,  as  reve 
lation,  as  imparted  knowledge,  as  the  divine  gist  of  au 
tonomy  —  self-government.  And  then  one  cannot  help 
working,  socially,  at  the  task  for  which  we  are  made  by 
nature  most  efficient.  And  in  order  to  discover  what 
that  task  is,  we  must  wait." 

"  Why  did  not  some  one  tell  me  this,  when  I  was 
young  ?  "  she  asked  —  not  speaking  to  him.  "  It  seems 
so  simple." 

"  It  is  simple.  The  difficult  thing  is  to  put  it  into 
practice  —  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world.  Both 
courage  and  faith  are  required,  faith  that  is  content  to 
trust  as  to  the  nature  of  the  reward.  It  is  the  wisdom 
of  foolishness.  Have  you  the  courage  ?  " 

She  pressed  her  hands  together. 

"  Alone  —  perhaps  I  should  have.  I  don't  know.  But 
my  husband  !  I  was  able  to  influence  him  to  his  destruc 
tion,  and  now  I  am  powerless.  Darkness  has  closed 
around  me.  He  would  not  —  he  will  not  listen  to  me." 

"  You  have  tried  ?  " 

"I  have  attempted  to  talk  to  him,  but  the  whole  of  my 
life  contradicts  my  words.  He  cannot  see  me  except  as 
the  woman  who  drove  him  into  making  money.  Some 
times  I  think  he  hates  me." 

Hodder  recalled,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  her  compassion 
ately,  the  sufferings  of  that  other  woman  in  Dalton 
Street. 

"  Would  you  have  me  desert  him  —  after  all  these 
years  ? "  she  whispered.  "  I  often  think  he  would  be 
happier,  even  now." 

"  I  would  have  you  do  nothing  save  that  which  God 
himself  will  reveal  to  you.  Go  home,  go  into  the  church 
and  pray  —  pray  for  knowledge.  I  think  you  will  find 
that  you  are  held  responsible  for  your  husband.  Pray 
that  that  which  you  have  broken,  you  may  mend  again." 

"  Do  you  think  there  is  a  chance  ?  " 

Hodder  made  a  gesture. 

"  God  alone  can  judge  as  to  the  extent  of  his  punish 
ments." 

2D 


402  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

She  got  to  her  feet,  wearily. 

"  I  feel  no  hope  —  I  feel  no  courage,  but  —  I  will  try. 
I  see  what  you  mean  —  that  my  punishment  is  my  power- 
lessness." 

He  bent  his  head. 

"  You  are  so  strong  —  perhaps  you  can  help  me." 

"  I  shall  always  be  ready,"  he  replied. 

He  escorted  her  down  the  steps  to  the  dark  blue 
brougham  with  upstanding,  chestnut  horses  which  was 
waiting  at  the  curb.  But  Mrs.  Constable  turned  to  the 
footman,  who  held  open  the  door. 

"  You  may  stay  here  awhile,"  she  said  to  him,  and  gave 
Hodder  her  hand.  .  .  . 

She  went  into  the  church. 


n 

Asa  Waring  and  his  son-in-law,  Phil  Goodrich,  had 
been  to  see  Hodder  on  the  subject  of  the  approaching 
vestry  meeting,  and  both  had  gone  away  not  a  little  as 
tonished  and  impressed  by  the  calmness  with  which  the 
rector  looked  forward  to  the  conflict.  Others  of  his 
parishioners,  some  of  whom  were  more  discreet  in  their 
expressions  of  sympathy,  were  no  less  surprised  by  his 
attitude;  and  even  his  theological  adversaries,  such  as 
Gordon  Atterbury,  paid  him  a  reluctant  tribute.  Thanks, 
perhaps,  to  the  newspaper  comments  as  much  as  to  any 
other  factor,  in  the  minds  of  those  of  all  shades  of  opinion  in 
the  parish  the  issue  had  crystallized  into  a  duel  between 
the  rector  and  Eldon  Parr.  Bitterly  as  they  resented  the 
glare  of  publicity  into  which  St.  John's  had  been  dragged, 
the  first  layman  of  the  diocese  was  not  beloved;  and  the 
fairer-minded  of  Hodder's  opponents,  though  appalled, 
were  forced  to  admit  in  their  hearts  that  the  methods  by 
which  Mr.  Parr  had  made  his  fortune  and  gained  his  as 
cendency  would  not  bear  scrutiny.  .  .  .  Some  of  them 
were  disturbed,  indeed,  by  the  discovery  that  there  had 
come  about  in  them,  by  imperceptible  degrees,  in  the  last 
few  years  a  new  and  critical  attitude  towards  the  ways  of 


THE   CHOICE  403 

modern  finance:  most  of  them  had  an  uncomfortable 
feeling  that  Hodder  was  somehow  right,  —  a  feeling  which 
they  sought  to  stifle  when  they  reflected  upon  the  conse 
quences  of  facing  it.  For  this  would  mean  a  disagreeable 
shaking  up  of  their  own  lives.  Few  of  them  were  in  a 
position  whence  they  might  cast  stones  atEldon  Parr.  .  .  . 

What  these  did  not  grasp  was  the  fact  that  that  which 
they  felt  stirring  within  them  was  the  new  and  spiritual 
product  of  the  dawning  twentieth  century  —  the  Social 
Conscience.  They  wished  heartily  that  the  new  rector 
who  had  developed  this  disquieting  personality  would 
peacefully  resign  and  leave  them  to  the  former,  even  tenor 
of  their  lives.  They  did  not  for  one  moment  doubt  the 
outcome  of  his  struggle  with  Eldon  Parr.  The  great 
banker  was  known  to  be  relentless,  his  name  was  synony 
mous  with  victory.  And  yet,  paradoxically,  Hodder 
compelled  their  inner  sympathy  and  admiration!  .  .  . 

Some  of  them,  who  did  not  attempt  peremptorily  to 
choke  these  processes,  made  the  startling  discovery  that 
they  were  not,  after  all,  so  shocked  by  his  doctrines  as  they 
had  at  first  supposed.  The  trouble  was  that  they  could 
not  continue  to  listen  to  him,  as  formerly,  with  com 
fort.  .  .  .  One  thing  was  certain,  that  they  had  never 
expected  to  look  forward  to  a  vestry  meeting  with  such 
breathless  interest  and  anxiety.  This  clergyman  had 
suddenly  accomplished  the  surprising  feat  of  reviving  the 
Church  as  a  burning,  vital  factor  in  the  life  of  the  com 
munity!  He  had  discerned  her  enemy,  and  defied  his 
power.  .  .  . 

As  for  Hodder,  so  absorbed  had  he  been  by  his  experi 
ences,  so  wrung  by  the  human  contacts,  the  personal 
problems  which  he  had  sought  to  enter,  that  he  had 
actually  given  no  thought  to  the  battle  before  him  until 
the  autumn  afternoon,  heavy  with  smoke,  had  settled 
down  into  darkness.  The  weather  was  damp  and  cold, 
and  he  sat  musing  on  the  ordeal  now  abruptly  confronting 
him  before  his  study  fire  when  he  heard  a  step  behind 
him.  He  turned  to  recognize,  by  the  glow  of  the  embers, 
the  heavy  figure  of  Nelson  Langmaid. 


404  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  hope  I'm  not  disturbing  you,  Hodder,"  he  said. 
"  The  janitor  said  you  were  in,  and  your  door  is  open." 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  rector,  rising.  As  he  stood 
for  a  moment  facing  the  lawyer,  the  thought  of  their 
friendship,  and  how  it  had  begun  in  the  little  rectory 
overlooking  the  lake  at  Bremerton,  was  uppermost  in  his 
mind,  —  yes,  and  the  memory  of  many  friendly,  literary 
discussions  in  the  same  room  where  they  now  stood,  of 
pleasant  dinners  at  Langmaid's  house  in  the  West  End, 
when  the  two  of  them  had  often  sat  talking  until  late  into 
the  nights. 

"  I  must  seem  very  inhospitable,"  said  Hodder.  "  I'll 
light  the  lamp — it's  pleasanter  than  the  electric  light." 

The  added  illumination  at  first  revealed  the  lawyer  in 
his  familiar  aspect,  the  broad  shoulders,  the  big,  reddish 
beard,  the  dome-like  head,  —  the  generous  person  that 
seemed  to  radiate  scholarly  benignity,  peace,  and  good-will. 
But  almost  instantly  the  rector  became  aware  of  a  new 
and  troubled,  puzzled  glance  from  behind  the  round 
spectacles.  .  .  . 

"  I  thought  I'd  drop  in  a  moment  on  my  way  up 
town  —  "  he  began.  And  the  note  of  uncertainty  in  his 
voice,  too,  was  new.  Hodder  drew  towards  the  fire  the 
big  chair  in  which  it  had  been  Langmaid's  wont  to  sit, 
and  perhaps  it  was  the  sight  of  this  operation  that  loosed 
the  lawyer's  tongue. 

"Confound  it,  Hodder!  "  he  exclaimed,  "I  like  you  — 
I  always  have  liked  you.  And  you've  got  a  hundred 
times  the  ability  of  the  average  clergyman.  Why  in  the 
world  did  you  have  to  go  and  make  all  this  trouble  ?  " 

By  so  characteristic  a  remark  Hodder  was  both  amused 
and  moved.  It  revealed  so  perfectly  the  point  of  view 
and  predicament  of  the  lawyer,  and  it  was  also  an  ex 
pression  of  an  affection  which  the  rector  cordially  re 
turned.  .  .  .  Before  answering,  he  placed  his  visitor  in 
the  chair,  and  the  deliberation  of  the  act  was  a  revelation 
of  the  unconscious  poise  of  the  clergyman.  The  spectacle 
of  this  self-command  on  the  brink  of  such  a  crucial  event 
as  the  vestry  meeting  had  taken  Langmaid  aback  more 


THE   CHOICE  405 

than  he  cared  to  show.  He  had  lost  the  old  sense  of 
comradeship,  of  easy  equality ;  and  he  had  the  odd  feeling 
of  dealing  with  a  new  man,  at  once  familiar  and  unfamiliar, 
who  had  somehow  lifted  himself  out  of  the  everyday 
element  in  which  they  heretofore  had  met.  The  clergy 
man  had  contrived  to  step  out  of  his,  Langmaid's,  ex 
perience  :  had  actually  set  him  —  who  all  his  life  had  known 
no  difficulty  in  dealing  with  men  —  to  groping  for  a 
medium  of  communication.  .  .  . 

Hodder  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace.  He, 
too,  seemed  to  be  striving  for  a  common  footing. 

"  It  was  a  question  of  proclaiming  the  truth  when  at 
last  I  came  to  see  it,  Langmaid.  I  could  not  help  doing 
what  I  did.  Matters  of  policy,  of  a  false  consideration  for 
individuals  could  not  enter  into  it.  If  this  were  not  so,  I 
should  gladly  admit  that  you  had  a  just  grievance,  a  pecul 
iar  right  to  demand  why  I  had  not  remained  the  strictly 
orthodox  person  whom  you  induced  to  come  here.  You 
had  every  reason  to  congratulate  yourself  that  you  were 
getting  what  you  doubtless  would  call  a  safe  man." 

"  I'll  admit  I  had  a  twinge  of  uneasiness  after  I  came 
home,"  Langmaid  confessed. 

Hodder  smiled  at  his  frankness. 

"  But  that  disappeared." 

"  Yes,  it  disappeared.  You  seemed  to  suit  'em  so  per 
fectly.  I'll  own  up,  Hodder,  that  I  was  a  little  hurt  that 
you  did  not  come  and  talk  to  me  just  before  you  took  the 
extraordinary  —  before  you  changed  your  opinions." 

"  Would  it  have  done  any  good  ?  "  asked  the  rector, 
gently.  "  Would  you  have  agreed  with  me  any  better 
than  you  do  now  ?  I  am  perfectly  willing,  if  you  wish,  to 
discuss  with  you  any  views  of  mine  which  you  may  not 
indorse.  And  it  would  make  me  very  happy,  I  assure 
you,  if  I  could  bring  you  to  look  upon  the  matter  as 
I  do." 

This  was  a  poser.  And  whether  it  were  ingenuous,  or 
had  in  it  an  element  of  the  scriptural  wisdom  of  the  ser 
pent,  Langmaid  could  not  have  said.  As  a  lawyer,  he  ad 
mired  it. 


406  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  wasn't  in  church,  as  usual,  —  I  didn't  hear  the  ser 
mon,"  he  replied.  "  And  I  never  could  make  head  or  tail 
of  theology  —  I  always  told  you  that.  What  I  deplore, 
Hodder,  is  that  you've  contrived  to  make  a  hornets'  nest 
out  of  the  most  peaceful  and  contented  congregation  in 
America.  Couldn't  you  have  managed  to  stick  to  religion 
instead  of  getting  mixed  up  with  socialism  ?  " 

"  So  you  have  been  given  the  idea  that  my  sermon  was 
socialistic  ?  "  the  rector  said. 

"  Socialistic  and  heretical,  it  seems.  Of  course  I'm  not 
much  of  an  authority  on  heresy,  but  they  claim  that  you 
went  out  of  your  way  to  knock  some  of  their  most  cherished 
and  sacred  beliefs  in  the  head." 

"  But  suppose  I  have  come  to  the  honest  conclusion  that 
in  the  first  place  these  so-called  cherished  beliefs  have  no 
foundation  in  fact,  and  no  influence  on  the  lives  of  the 
persons  who  cherished  them,  no  real  connection  with 
Christianity  ?  What  would  you  have  me  do,  as  a  man  ? 
Continue  to  preach  them  for  the  sake  of  the  lethargic 
peace  of  which  you  speak  ?  leave  the  church  paralyzed,  as 
I  found  it?" 

"  Paralyzed  !  You've  got  the  most  influential  people  in 
the  city." 

Hodder  regarded  him  for  a  while  without  replying. 

"  So  has  the  Willesden  Club,"  he  said. 

Langmaid  laughed  a  little,  uncomfortably. 

"  If  Christianity,  as  one  of  the  ancient  popes  is  said  to 
have  remarked,  were  merely  a  profitable  fable,"  the  rector 
continued,  "  there  might  be  something  in  your  contention 
that  St.  John's,  as  a  church,  had  reached  the  pinnacle  of 
success.  But  let  us  ignore  the  spiritual  side  of  this  mat 
ter  as  non-vital,  and  consider  it  from  the  practical  side. 
We  have  the  most  influential  people  in  the  city,  but  we 
have  not  their  children.  That  does  not  promise  well  for 
the  future.  The  children  get  more  profit  out  of  the  coun 
try  clubs.  And  then  there  is  another  question  :  is  it  going 
to  continue  to  be  profitable?  Is  it  as  profitable  now  as  it 
was,  say,  twenty  years  ago  ?  " 

"  You've  got  out  of  my  depth,"  said  Nelson  Langmaid. 


THE   CHOICE  407 

"I'll  try  to  explain.  As  a  man  of  affairs,  I  think  you 
will  admit,  if  you  reflect,  that  the  return  of  St.  John's, 
considering  the  large  amount  of  money  invested,  is 
scarcely  worth  considering.  And  I  am  surprised  that  as 
astute  a  man  as  Mr.  Parr  has  not  been  able  to  see  this 
long  ago.  If  we  clear  all  the  cobwebs  away,  what  is  the 
real  function  of  this  church  as  at  present  constituted  ? 
Why  this  heavy  expenditure  to  maintain  religious  ser 
vices  for  a  handful  of  people  ?  Is  it  not,  when  we  come 
down  to  facts,  an  increasingly  futile  effort  to  bring  the 
influences  of  religion  —  of  superstition,  if  you  will — to 
bear  on  the  so-called  lower  classes  in  order  that  they  may 
remain  contented  with  their  lot,  with  that  station  and 
condition  in  the  world  where  —  it  is  argued  —  it  has 
pleased  God  to  call  them  ?  If  that  were  not  so,  in  my 
opinion  there  are  very  few  of  the  privileged  classes  who 
would  invest  a  dollar  in  the  Church.  And  the  proof  of  it 
is^  that  the  moment  a  clergyman  raises  his  voice  to  pro 
claim  the  true  message  of  Christianity  they  are  up  in 
arms  with  the  cry  of  socialism.  They  have  the  sense  to 
see  that  their  privileges  are  immediately  threatened. 

"  Looking  at  it  from  the  financial  side,  it  would  be 
cheaper  for  them  to  close  up  their  churches.  It  is 
a  mere  waste  of  time  and  money,  because  the  influence 
on  their  less  fortunate  brethren  in  a  worldly  sense  has 
dwindled  to  nothing.  Few  of  the  poor  come  near  their 
churches  in  these  days.  The  profitable  fable  is  almost 
played  out." 

Hodder  had  spoken  without  bitterness,  yet  his  irony 
was  by  no  means  lost  on  the  lawyer.  Langmaid,  if  the 
truth  be  told,  found  himself  for  the  moment  in  the 
unusual  predicament  of  being  at  a  loss,  for  the  rector  had 
put  forward  with  more  or  less  precision  the  very  cynical 
view  which  he  himself  had  been  clever  enough  to  evolve. 

"  Haven't  they  the  right,"  he  asked,  somewhat  lamely, 
"  to  demand  the  kind  of  religion  they  pay  for?" 

"  Provided  you  don't  call  it  religion,"  said  the  rector. 

Langmaid  smiled  in  spite  of  himself. 

"See   here,   Hodder,"  he  said,  "I've  always  confessed 


408  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

frankly  that  I  knew  little  or  nothing  about  religion.  I've 
come  here  this  evening  as  your  friend,  without  authority 
from  anybody,"  he  added  significantly,  "to  see  if  this 
thing  couldn't  somehow  be  adjusted  peaceably,  for  your 
sake  as  well  as  others'.  Come,  you  must  admit  there's  a 
grain  of  justice  in  the  contention  against  you.  When  I 
went  on  to  Bremerton  to  get  you  I  had  no  real  reason  for 
supposing  that  these  views  would  develop.  I  made  a 
contract  with  you  in  all  good  faith." 

"  And  I  with  you,"  answered  the  rector.  "  Perhaps 
you  do  not  realize,  Langmaid,  what  has  been  the  chief 
factor  in  developing  these  views." 

The  lawyer  was  silent,  from  caution. 

"  I  must  be  frank  with  you.  It  was  the  discovery  that 
Mr.  Parr  and  others  of  my  chief  parishioners  were  so  far 
from  being  Christians  as  to  indulge,  while  they  supported 
the  Church  of  Christ,  in  operations  like  that  of  the  Con 
solidated  Tractions  Company,  wronging  their  fellow-men 
and  condemning  them  to  misery  and  hate.  And  that 
you,  as  a  lawyer,  used  your  talents  to  make  that  operation 
possible." 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  Langmaid,  now  plainly  agitated. 
"  You  have  no  right  —  you  can  know  nothing  of  that 
affair.  You  do  not  understand  business." 

"I'm  afraid,"  replied  the  rector,  sadly,  "that  I  under 
stand  one  side  of  it  only  too  well." 

"The  Church  has  no  right  to  meddle  outside  of  her 
sphere,  to  dictate  to  politics  and  business." 

"  Her  sphere,"  said  Hodder,  "  is  the  world.  If  she 
does  not  change  the  world  by  sending  out  Christians  into 
it,  she  would  better  close  her  doors." 

"  Well,  I  don't  intend  to  quarrel  with  you,  Hodder.  I 
suppose  it  can't  be  helped  that  we  look  at  these  things 
differently,  and  I  don't  intend  to  enter  into  a  defence  of 
business.  It  would  take  too  long,  and  it  wouldn't  help 
any."  He  got  to  his  feet.  "  Whatever  happens,  it  won't 
interfere  with  our  personal  friendship,  even  if  you  think 
me  a  highwayman  and  I  think  you  a " 

"  A  fanatic,"  Hodder  supplied.     He  had  risen,  too,  and 


THE   CHOICE  409 

stood,  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  gazing  at  the  lawyer  with 
an  odd  scrutiny. 

"  An  idealist,  I  was  going  to  say,"  Langmaid  an 
swered,  returning  the  smile,  "  I'll  admit  that  we  need 
them  in  the  world.  It's  only  when  one  of  them  gets  in 
the  gear-box.  ..." 

The  rector  laughed.  And  thus  they  stood,  facing  each 
other. 

"  Langmaid,"  Hodder  asked,  "  don't  you  ever  get  tired 
and  disgusted  with  the  Juggernaut  car  ?  " 

The  big  lawyer  continued  to  smile,  but  a  sheepish, 
almost  boyish  expression  came  over  his  face.  He  had  not 
credited  the  clergyman  with  so  much  astuteness. 

"Business,  nowadays,  is  —  business,  Hodder.  The 
Juggernaut  car  claims  us  all.  It  has  become —  if  you  will 
permit  me  to  continue  to  put  my  similes  into  slang  —  the 
modern  band  wagon.  And  we  lawyers  have  to  get  on  it, 
or  fall  by  the  wayside." 

Hodder  stared  into  the  fire. 

"  I  appreciate  your  motive  in  coming  here,"  he  said,  at 
length,  uand  I  do  you  the  justice  of  believing  it  was 
friendly,  that  the  fact  that  you  are,  in  a  way,  responsible 
for  me  to  —  to  the  congregation  of  St.  John's  did  not 
enter  into  it.  I  realize  that  I  have  made  matters  particu 
larly  awkward  for  you.  You  have  given  them  in  me,  and 
in  good  faith,  something  they  didn't  bargain  for.  You 
haven't  said  so,  but  you  want  me  to  resign.  On  the  one 
hand,  you  don't  care  to  see  me  tilting  at  the  windmills,  or, 
better,  drawing  down  on  my  head  the  thunderbolts  of 
your  gods.  On  the  other  hand,  you  are  just  a  little  afraid 
for  your  gods.  If  the  question  in  dispute  were  merely  an 
academic  one,  I'd  accommodate  you  at  once.  But  I  can't. 
I've  thought  it  all  out,  and  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that 
it  is  my  clear  duty  to  remain  here  and,  if  I  am  strong 
enough,  wrest  this  church  from  the  grip  of  Eldon  Parr 
and  the  men  whom  he  controls. 

"  I  am  speaking  plainly,  and  I  understand  the  situation 
thoroughly.  You  will  probably  tell  me,  as  others  have 
done,  that  no  one  has  ever  opposed  Eldon  Parr  who  has 


410  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

not  been  crushed.  I  go  in  with  my  eyes  open,  I  am  will 
ing  to  be  crushed,  if  necessary.  You  have  come  here  to 
warn  me,  and  I  appreciate  your  motive.  Now  I  am  going 
to  v.  arn  you,  in  all  sincerity  and  friendship.  I  may  be 
beaten,  I  may  be  driven  out.  But  the  victory  will  be 
mine  nevartheless.  Eldon  Parr  and  the  men  who  stand 
with  him  in  the  struggle  will  never  recover  from  the  blow 
I  shall  give  them.  I  shall  leave  them  crippled  because 
I  have  the  truth  on  my  side,  and  the  truth  is  irresistible. 
And  they  shall  not  be  able  to  injure  me  permanently. 
And  you,  I  regret  deeply  to  say,  will  be  hurt,  too.  I  beg 
you,  for  no  selfish  reason,  to  consider  again  the  part  you 
intend  to  play  in  this  affair." 

Such  was  the  conviction,  such  the  unlooked-for  fire 
with  which  the  rector  spoke  that  Langmaid  was  visibly 
shaken  and  taken  aback  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Do  you  mean,"  he  demanded,  when  he  had  caught  his 
breath,  "  that  you  intend  to  attack  us  publicly  ?  " 

"  Is  that  the  only  punishment  you  can  conceive  of  ? " 
the  rector  asked.  The  reproach  in  his  voice  was  in  itself 
a  denial. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Hodder,"  said  the  lawyer,  quickly. 
"  And  I  am  sure  you  honestly  believe  what  you  say, 
but " 

"  In  your  heart  you,  too,  believe  it,  Langmaid.  The 
retribution  has  already  begun.  Nevertheless  you  will  go 
on  —  for  a  while."  He  held  out  his  hand,  which  Lang- 
maid  took  mechanically.  "  I  bear  you  no  ill-will.  I  am 
sorry  that  you  cannot  yet  see  with  sufficient  clearness  to 
save  yourself." 

Langmaid  turned  and  picked  up  his  hat  and  stick  and 
left  the  room  without  another  word.  The  bewildered, 
wistful  look  which  had  replaced  the  ordinarily  benign  and 
cheerful  expression  haunted  Hodder  long  after  the  lawyer 
had  gone.  It  was  the  look  of  a  man  who  has  somehow 
lost  his  consciousness  of  power. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE   VESTRY   MEETS 

AT  nine  o'clock  that  evening  Hodder  stood  alone  in  the 
arched  vestry  room,  and  the  sight  of  the  heavy  Gothic 
chairs  ranged  about  the  long  table  brought  up  memories 
of  comfortable,  genial  meetings  prolonged  by  chat  and 
banter.  .  .  .  The  noise  of  feet,  of  subdued  voices  beside 
the  coat  room  in  the  corridor,  aroused  him.  All  of  the 
vestry  would  seem  to  have  arrived  at  once. 

He  regarded  them  with  a  detached  curiosity  as  they 
entered,  reading  them  with  a  new  insight.  The  trace  of 
offhandedness  in  Mr.  Plimpton's  former  cordiality  was 
not  lost  upon  him  —  an  intimation  that  his  star  had  set. 
Mr.  Plimpton  had  seen  many  breaches  healed  —  had 
healed  many  himself.  But  he  had  never  been  known  as  a 
champion  of  lost  causes. 

"  Well,  here  we  are,  Mr.  Hodder,  on  the  stroke,"  he  re 
marked.  "  As  a  vestry,  I  think  we're  entitled  to  the  first 
prize  for  promptness.  How  about  it,  Everett  ?  " 

Everett  Constable  was  silent. 

44  Good  evening,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said.  He  did  not 
offer  to  shake  hands,  as  Mr.  Plimpton  had  done,  but  sat 
down  at  the  far  end  of  the  table.  He  looked  tired  and 
worn  ;  sick,  the  rector  thought,  and  felt  a  sudden  swelling 
of  compassion  for  the  pompous  little  man  whose  fibre  was 
not  as  tough  as  that  of  these  other  condottieri:  as  Francis 
Ferguson's,  for  instance,  although  his  soft  hand  and  pink 
and  white  face  framed  in  the  black  whiskers  would  seem 
to  belie  any  fibre  whatever. 

Gordon  Atterbury  hemmed  and  hawed,  — 44  Ah,  Mr. 
Hodder,"  and  seated  himself  beside  Mr.  Constable,  in  a 
chair  designed  to  accommodate  a  portly  bishop.  Both  of 

411 


412  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

them  started  nervously  as  Asa  Waring,  holding  his  head 
high,  as  a  man  should  who  has  kept  his  birthright,  went 
directly  to  the  rector. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said,  and  turn 
ing  defiantly,  surveyed  the  room.  There  was  an  awkward 
silence.  Mr.  Plimpton  edged  a  little  nearer.  The  decree 
might  have  gone  forth  for  Mr.  Hodder's  destruction,  but 
Asa  Waring  was  a  man  whose  displeasure  was  not  to  be 
lightly  incurred. 

44  What's  this  I  hear  about  your  moving  out  of  Hamil 
ton  Place,  Mr.  Waring  ?  You'd  better  come  up  and  take 
the  Spaulding  lot,  in  Waverley,  across  from  us." 

"  I  am  an  old  man,  Mr.  Plimpton,"  Asa  Waring  replied. 
"  I  do  not  move  as  easily  as  some  other  people  in  these 
days." 

Everett  Constable  produced  his  handkerchief  and  rubbed 
his  nose  violently.  But  Mr.  Plimpton  was  apparently 
undaunted. 

44 1  have  always  said,"  he  observed,  44  that  there  was 
something  very  fine  in  your  sticking  to  that  neighbour 
hood  after  your  friends  had  gone.  Here's  Phil !  " 

Phil  Goodrich  looked  positively  belligerent,  and  as  he 
took  his  stand  on  the  other  side  of  Hodder  his  father-in- 
law  smiled  at  him  grimly.  Mr.  Goodrich  took  hold  of 
the  rector's  arm. 

44 1  missed  one  or  two  meetings  last  spring,  Mr.  Hodder," 
he  said,  44but  I'm  going  to  be  on  hand  after  this.  My 
father,  I  believe,  never  missed  a  vestry  meeting  in  his  life. 
Perhaps  that  was  because  they  used  to  hold  most  of  'em 
at  his  house." 

44  And  serve  port  and  cigars,  I'm  told,"  Mr.  Plimpton 
put  in. 

44  That  was  an  inducement,  Wallis,  I'll  admit,"  answered 
Phil.  44  But  there  are  even  greater  inducements  now." 

In  view  of  Phil  Goodrich's  well-known  liking  for  a 
fight,  this  was  too  pointed  to  admit  of  a  reply,  but  Mr. 
Plimpton  was  spared  the  attempt  by  the  entrance  of 
Nelson  Langmaid.  The  lawyer,  as  he  greeted  them, 
seemed  to  be  preoccupied,  nor  did  he  seek  to  relieve  the 


THE   VESTRY   MEETS  413 

tension  with  his  customary  joke.  A  few  moments  of 
silence  followed,  when  Eldon  Parr  was  seen  to  be  stand 
ing  in  the  doorway,  surveying  them. 

"  Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  said  coldly,  and  with 
out  more  ado  went  to  his  customary  chair,  and  sat  down 
in  it.  Immediately  followed  a  scraping  of  other  chairs. 
There  was  a  dominating  quality  about  the  man  not  to  be 
gainsaid. 

The  rector  called  the  meeting  to  order.  .   .   . 

During  the  routine  business  none  of  the  little  asides 
occurred  which  produce  laughter.  Every  man  in  the 
room  was  aware  of  the  intensity  of  Eldon  Parr's  animosity, 
and  yet  he  betrayed  it  neither  by  voice,  look,  or  gesture. 
There  was  something  uncanny  in  this  self-control,  this  sang 
froid  with  which  he  was  wont  to  sit  at  boards  waiting 
unmoved  for  the  time  when  he  should  draw  his  net  about 
his  enemies,  and  strangle  them  without  pity.  It  got  on 
Langmaid's  nerves  —  hardened  as  he  was  to  it.  He  had 
seen  many  men  in  that  net ;  some  had  struggled,  some 
had  taken  their  annihilation  stoically ;  honest  merchants, 
freebooters,  and  brigands.  Most  of  them  had  gone  out, 
with  their  families,  into  that  precarious  border-land  of 
existence  in  which  the  to-morrows  are  ever  dreaded. 

Yet  here,  somehow,  was  a  different  case.  Langmaid 
found  himself  going  back  to  the  days  when  his  mother 
had  taken  him  to  church,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  look  at 
Hodder.  Since  six  o'clock  that  afternoon  —  had  his  com 
panions  but  known  it  —  he  had  passed  through  one  of  the 
worst  periods  of  his  existence.  .  .  . 

After  the  regular  business  had  been  disposed  of  a  brief 
interval  was  allowed,  for  the  sake  of  decency,  to  ensue. 
That  Eldon  Parr  would  not  lead  the  charge  in  person  was 
a  foregone  conclusion.  Whom,  then,  would  he  put 
forward  ?  For  obvious  reasons,  not  Wallis  Plimpton  or 
Langmaid,  nor  Francis  Ferguson.  Hodder  found  his 
glance  unconsciously  fixed  upon  Everett  Constable,  who 
moved  nervously  and  slowly  pushed  back  his  chair.  He 
was  called  upon,  in  this  hour  and  in  the  church  his  father 
had  helped  to  found,  to  make  the  supreme  payment  for 


414  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  years  of  financial  prosperity.  Although  a  little  man, 
with  his  shoulders  thrown  back  and  his  head  high,  he 
generally  looked  impressive  when  he  spoke,  and  his  fine 
features  and  clear-cut  English  contributed  to  the  effect. 
But  now  his  face  was  strained,  and  his  voice  seemed  to 
lack  command  as  he  bowed  and  mentioned  the  rector's 
name.  Eldon  Parr  sat  back. 

"  Gentlemen,"  Mr.  Constable  began,  "  I  feel  it  my  duty 
to  say  something  this  evening,  something  that  distresses 
me.  Like  some  of  you  who  are  here  present,  I  have  been 
on  this  vestry  for  many  years,  and  my  father  was  on  it 
before  me.  I  was  brought  up  under  Dr.  Gilman,  of  whom 
I  need  not  speak.  All  here,  except  our  present  rector, 
knew  him.  This  church,  St.  John's,  has  been  a  part  —  a 
large  part  —  of  my  life.  And  anything  that  seems  to 
touch  its  welfare,  touches  me. 

"  When  Dr.  Gilman  died,  after  so  many  years  of  faith 
ful  service,  we  faced  a  grave  problem,  —  that  of  obtaining 
a  young  man  of  ability,  an  active  man  who  would  be  able 
to  assume  the  responsibilities  of  a  large  and  growing 
parish,  and  at  the  same  time  carry  on  its  traditions, 
precious  to  us  all :  one  who  believed  in  and  preached,  I 
need  scarcely  add,  the  accepted  doctrines  of  the  Church, 
which  we  have  been  taught  to  think  are  sacred  and 
necessary  to  salvation.  And  in  the  discovery  of  the 
Reverend  Mr.  Hodder,  we  had  reason  to  congratulate 
ourselves  and  the  parish.  He  was  all  that  we  had  hoped 
for,  and  more.  His  sermons  were  at  once  a  pleasure  and 
an  instruction. 

"  I  wish  to  make  it  clear,"  he  continued,  "  that  in  spite 
of  the  pain  Mr.  Hodder's  words  of  last  Sunday  have  given 
me,  I  respect  and  honour  him  still,  and  wish  him  every 
success.  But,  gentlemen,  I  think  it  is  plain  to  all  of  you 
that  he  has  changed  his  religious  convictions.  As  to 
the  causes  through  which  that  change  has  come  about,  I  do 
not  pretend  to  know.  To  say  the  least,  the  transition  is  a 
startling  one,  one  for  which  some  of  us  were  totally  un 
prepared.  To  speak  restrainedly,  it  was  a  shock  —  a 
shock  which  I  shall  remember  as  long  as  I  live. 


THE   VESTRY   MEETS  415 

"  I  need  not  go  into  the  doctrinal  question  here,  except 
to  express  my  opinion  that  the  fundamental  facts  of  our 
religion  were  contradicted.  And  we  have  also  to  consider 
the  effect  of  this  preaching  on  coming  generations  for 
whom  we  are  responsible.  There  are,  no  doubt,  other 
fields  for  Mr.  Hodder's  usefulness.  But  I  think  it  may 
safely  be  taken  as  a  principle  that  this  parish  has  the 
right  to  demand  from  the  pulpit  that  orthodox  teaching 
which  suits  it,  and  to  which  it  has  been  accustomed. 
And  I  venture  further  to  give  it  as  my  opinion  —  to  put 
it  mildly  —  that  others  have  been  as  disturbed  and 
shocked  as  I.  I  have  seen  many,  talked  with  many,  since 
Sunday.  For  these  reasons,  with  much  sorrow  and 
regret,  I  venture  to  suggest  to  the  vestry  that  Mr. 
Hodder  resign  as  our  rector.  And  I  may  add  what  I 
believe  to  be  the  feeling  of  all  present,  that  we  have 
nothing  bat  good  will  for  him,  although  we  think  we 
might  have  been  informed  of  what  he  intended  to  do. 
And  that  in  requesting  him  to  resign  we  are  acting  for 
his  own  good  as  well  as  our  own,  and  are  thus  avoiding  a 
situation  which  threatens  to  become  impossible, —  one 
which  would  bring  serious  reflection  on  him  and  calamity 
on  the  church.  We  already,  in  certain  articles  in  the 
newspapers,  have  had  an  indication  of  the  intolerable 
notoriety  we  may  expect,  although  I  hold  Mr.  Hodder 
innocent  in  regard  to  those  articles.  I  am  sure  he  will 
have  the  good  sense  to  see  this  situation  as  I  see  it,  as  the 
majority  of  the  parish  see  it." 

Mr.  Constable  sat  down,  breathing  hard.  He  had  not 
looked  at  the  rector  during  the  whole  of  his  speech,  nor 
at  Eldon  Parr.  There  was  a  heavy  silence,  and  then 
Philip  Goodrich  rose,  square,  clean-cut,  aggressive. 

"  I,  too,  gentlemen,  have  had  life-long  association  with 
this  church,"  he  began  deliberately.  "And  for  Mr. 
Hodder's  sake  I  am  going  to  give  you  a  little  of  my 
personal  history,  because  I  think  it  typical  of  thousands 
of  men  of  my  age  all  over  this  country.  It  was  nobody's 
fault,  perhaps,  that  I  was  taught  that  the  Christian 
religion  depended  on  a  certain  series  of  nature  miracles 


416  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  a  chain  of  historical  events,  and  when  I  went  East  to 
school  I  had  more  of  this  same  sort  of  instruction.  I 
have  never,  perhaps,  been  overburdened  with  intellect, 
but  the  time  arrived  nevertheless  when  I  began  to  think  for 
myself.  Some  of  the  older  boys  went  once,  I  remember, 
to  the  rector  of  the  school  —  a  dear  old  man  —  and  frankly 
stated  our  troubles.  To  use  a  modern  expression,  he 
4  stood  pat '  on  everything.  I  do  not  say  it  was  a  con 
sciously  criminal  act,  —  he  probably  saw  no  way  out  him 
self.  At  any  rate,  he  made  us  all  agnostics  at  one  stroke. 

"  What  I  learned  in  college  of  science  and  history  and 
philosophy  merely  confirmed  me  in  my  agnosticism.  As 
a  complete  system  for  the  making  of  atheists  and  material 
ists,  I  commend  the  education  which  I  received.  If  there 
is  any  man  here  who  believes  religion  to  be  an  essential 
factor  in  life,  I  ask  him  to  think  of  his  children  or  grand 
children  before  he  comes  forward  to  the  support  of  Mr. 
Constable. 

"In  that  sermon  which  he  preached  last  Sunday,  Mr. 
Hodder,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  made  Christianity 
intelligible  to  me.  I  want  him  to  know  it.  And  there 
are  other  men  and  women  in  that  congregation  who  feel  as 
I  do.  Gentlemen,  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  give  to 
have  had  Christianity  put  before  me  in  that  simple  and 
inspiring  way  when  I  was  a  boy.  And  in  my  opinion 
St.  John's  is  more  fortunate  to-day  than  it  ever  has 
been  in  its  existence.  Mr.  Hodder  should  have  an  unani 
mous  testimonial  of  appreciation  from  this  vestry  for  his 
courage.  And  if  the  vote  requesting  him  to  resign  pre 
vails,  I  venture  to  predict  that  there  is  not  a  man  on  this 
vestry  who  will  not  live  to  regret  it." 

Phil  Goodrich  glared  at  Eldon  Parr,  who  remained 
unmoved. 

"Permit  me  to  add,"  he  said,  "that  this  controversy, 
in  other  respects  than  doctrine,  is  more  befitting  to  the 
Middle  Ages  than  to  the  twentieth  century,  when  this 
Church  and  other  denominations  are  passing  resolutions 
in  their  national  conventions  with  a  view  to  unity  and 
freedom  of  belief." 


THE   VESTRY   MEETS  417 

Mr.  Langmaid,  Mr.  Plimpton,  and  Mr.  Constable  sat 
still.  Mr.  Ferguson  made  no  move.  It  was  Gordon 
Atterbury  who  rushed  into  the  breach,  and  proved  that 
the  extremists  are  allies  of  doubtful  value. 

He  had,  apparently,  not  been  idle  since  Sunday,  and 
was  armed  cap-a-pie  with  time-worn  arguments  that  need 
not  be  set  down.  All  of  which  went  to  show  that  Mr. 
Goodrich  had  not  referred  to  the  Middle  Ages  in  vain. 
For  Gordon  Atterbury  was  a  born  schoolman.  But  he 
finished  by  declaring,  at  the  end  of  twenty  minutes  (much 
as  he  regretted  the  necessity  of  saying  it),  that  Mr.  Hod- 
der's  continuance  as  rector  would  mean  the  ruin  of  the 
church  in  which  all  present  took  such  a  pride.  That  the 
great  majority  of  its  members  would  never  submit  to  what 
was  so  plainly  heresy. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Plimpton  gathered  courage  to  pour 
oil  on  the  waters.  There  was  nothing,  in  his  opinion,  — 
he  remarked  smilingly,  in  his  function  as  peacemaker,  — 
to  warrant  anything  but  the  most  friendly  interchange  of 
views.  He  was  second  to  none  in  his  regard  for  Mr. 
Hodder,  in  his  admiration  for  a  man  who  had  the  courage 
of  his  convictions.  He  had  not  the  least  doubt  that  Mr. 
Hodder  did  not  desire  to  remain  in  the  parish  when  it  was 
so  apparent  that  the  doctrines  which  he  now  preached  were 
not  acceptable  to  most  of  those  who  supported  the  church. 
And  he  added  (with  sublime  magnanimity)  that  he  wished 
Mr.  Hodder  the  success  which  he  was  sure  he  deserved, 
and  gave  him  every  assurance  of  his  friendship. 

Asa  Waring  was  about  to  rise,  when  he  perceived  that 
Hodder  himself  was  on  his  feet.  And  the  eyes  of  every 
man,  save  one,  were  fixed  on  him  irresistibly.  The  rector 
seemed  unaware  of  it.  It  was  Philip  Goodrich  who 
remarked  to  his  father-in-law,  as  they  walked  home  after 
wards,  of  the  sense  he  had  had  at  that  moment  that  there 
were  just  two  men  in  the  room,  —  Hodder  and  Eldon 
Parr.  All  the  rest  were  ciphers  ;  all  had  lost,  momen 
tarily,  their  feelings  of  partisanship  and  were  conscious 
only  of  these  two  intense,  radiating,  opposing  centres  of 
force  ;  and  no  man,  oddly  enough,  could  say  which  was 

2E 


418  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  stronger.  They  seemingly  met  on  equal  terms. 
There  could  not  be  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  rector  did 
not  mean  to  yield,  and  yet  they  might  have  been  puzzled 
if  they  had  asked  themselves  how  they  had  read  the  fact 
in  his  face  or  manner.  For  he  betrayed  neither  anger  nor 
impatience. 

No  more  did  the  financier  reveal  his  own  feelings.  He 
still  sat  back  in  his  chair,  unmoved,  in  apparent  contem 
plation.  The  posture  was  familiar  to  Langmaid.  .  .  . 
Would  he  destroy,  too,  this  clergyman  ?  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  and  as  he  looked  at  Hodder,  the  lawyer 
wondered.  .  .  . 

Hodder  did  not  defend  himself,  made  no  apologies. 
Christianity  was  not  a  collection  of  doctrines,  he  reminded 
them,  —  but  a  mode  of  life.  If  anything  were  clear  to 
him,  it  was  that  the  present  situation  was  not,  with  the 
majority  of  them,  a  matter  of  doctrines,  but  of  unwilling 
ness  to  accept  the  message  and  precept  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  lead  Christian  lives.  They  had  made  use  of  the  doc 
trines  as  a  stalking-horse. 

There  was  a  stir  at  this,  and  Hodder  paused  a 
moment  and  glanced  around  the  table.  But  no  one 
interrupted. 

He  was  fully  aware  of  his  rights,  and  he  had  no  inten 
tion  of  resigning.  To  resign  would  be  to  abandon  the 
work  for  which  he  was  responsible,  not  to  them,  but  to 
God.  And  he  was  perfectly  willing  —  nay,  eager  to 
defend  his  Christianity  before  any  ecclesiastical  court, 
should  the  bishop  decide  that  a  court  was  necessary. 
The  day  of  freedom,  of  a  truer  vision  was  at  hand,  the 
day  of  Christian  unity  on  the  vital  truths,  and  no  better 
proof  of  it  could  be  brought  forward  than  the  change  in 
him.  In  his  ignorance  and  blindness  he  had  hitherto  per 
mitted  compromise,  but  he  would  no  longer  allow  those 
who  made  only  an  outward  pretence  of  being  Christians 
to  direct  the  spiritual  affairs  of  St.  John's,  to  say  what 
should  and  what  should  not  be  preached.  This  was  to 
continue  to  paralyze  the  usefulness  of  the  church,  to  set  at 
naught  her  mission,  to  alienate  those  who  most  had  need 


THE   VESTRY   MEETS  419 

of  her,  who  hungered  and  thirsted  after  righteousness, 
and  went  away  unsatisfied. 

He  had  hardly  resumed  his  seat  when  Everett  Constable 
got  up  again.  He  remarked,  somewhat  unsteadily,  that 
to  prolong  the  controversy  would  be  useless  and  painful 
to  all  concerned,  and  he  infinitely  regretted  the  necessity 
of  putting  his  suggestion  that  the  rector  resign  in  the 
form  of  a  resolution.  .  .  .  The  vote  was  taken.  Six 
men  raised  their  hands  in  favour  of  his  resignation  — 
Nelson  Langmaid  among  them  :  two,  Asa  Waring  and 
Philip  Goodrich,  were  against  it.  After  announcing  the 
result,  Hodder  rose. 

"For  the  reason  I  have  stated,  gentlemen,  I  decline  to 
resign,"  he  said.  "  I  stand  upon  my  canonical  rights." 

Francis  Ferguson  arose,  his  voice  actually  trembling 
with  anger.  There  is  something  uncanny  in  the  passion 
of  a  man  whose  life  has  been  ordered  by  the  inexorable 
rules  of  commerce,  who  has  been  wont  to  decide  all  ques 
tions  from  the  standpoint  of  dollars  and  cents.  If  one  of 
his  own  wax  models  had  suddenly  become  animated,  the 
effect  could  not  have  been  more  startling. 

In  the  course  of  this  discussion,  he  declared,  Mr. 
Hodder  had  seen  fit  to  make  grave  and  in  his  opinion 
unwarranted  charges  concerning  the  lives  of  some,  if  not 
all,  of  the  gentlemen  who  sat  here.  It  surprised  him  that 
these  remarks  had  not  been  resented,  but  he  praised  a 
Christian  forbearance  on  the  part  of  his  colleagues  which 
he  was  unable  to  achieve.  He  had  no  doubt  that  their 
object  had  been  to  spare  Mr.  Hodder's  feelings  as  much 
as  possible,  but  Mr.  Hodder  had  shown  no  disposition  to 
spare  their  own.  He  had  outraged  them,  Mr.  Ferguson 
thought,  —  wantonly  so.  He  had  made  these  preposter 
ous  and  unchristian  charges  an  excuse  for  his  deter 
mination  to  remain  in  a  position  where  his  usefulness 
had  ceased. 

No  one,  unfortunately,  was  perfect  in  this  life,  —  not 
even  Mr.  Hodder.  He,  Francis  Ferguson,  was  far  from 
claiming  to  be  so.  But  he  believed  that  this  arraign 
ment  of  the  men  who  stood  highest  in  the  city  for  decency, 


420  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

law,  and  order,  who  supported  the  Church,  who  revered 
its  doctrines,  who  tried  to  live  Christian  lives,  who  gave 
their  time  and  their  money  freely  to  it  and  to  charities,  — 
that  this  arraignment  was  an  arrogant  accusation  and 
affront  to  be  repudiated.  He  demanded  that  Mr.  Hodder 
be  definite.  If  he  had  any  charges  to  make,  let  him  make 
them  here  and  now. 

The  consternation,  the  horror  which  succeeded  such  a 
stupid  and  unexpected  tactical  blunder  on  the  part  of  the 
usually  astute  Mr.  Ferguson  were  felt  rather  than  visually 
discerned.  The  atmosphere  might  have  been  described  as 
panicky.  Asa  Waring  and  Phil  Goodrich  smiled  as  Wallis 
Plimpton,  after  a  moment's  hush,  scrambled  to  his  feet, 
his  face  pale,  his  customary  easiness  and  nonchalance  now 
the  result  of  an  obvious  effort.  He,  too,  tried  to  smile, 
but  swallowed  instead  as  he  remembered  his  property  in 
Dalton  Street.  .  .  .  Nelson  Langmaid  smiled,  in  spite 
of  himself.  .  .  .  Mr.  Plimpton  implored  his  fellow- 
members  not  to  bring  personalities  into  the  debate,  and  he 
was  aware  all  the  while  of  the  curious,  pitying  expression 
of  the  rector.  He  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  at  the  opening 
words  of  Hodder,  who  followed  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  I  have  no  intention  of  being 
personal,  even  by  unanimous  consent.  But  if  Mr.  Fergu 
son  will  come  to  me  after  this  meeting  I  shall  have  not  the 
least  objection  to  discussing  this  matter  with  him  in  so 
far  as  he  himself  is  concerned.  I  can  only  assure  you  now 
that  I  have  not  spoken  without  warrant." 

There  was,  oddly  enough,  no  acceptance  of  this  offer 
by  Mr.  Ferguson.  Another  silence  ensued,  broken,  at 
last,  by  a  voice  for  which  they  had  all  been  unconsciously 
waiting  ;  a  voice  which,  though  unemotional,  cold,  and 
matter-of-fact,  was  nevertheless  commanding,  and  long 
accustomed  to  speak  with  an  overwhelming  authority. 
Eldon  Parr  did  not  rise. 

"  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said,  "  in  one  respect  seems  to  be 
under  the  delusion  that  we  are  still  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
instead  of  the  twentieth  century,  since  he  assumes  the 
right  to  meddle  with  the  lives  of  his  parishioners,  to  be 


THE   VESTKY   MEETS  421 

the  sole  judge  of  their  actions.  That  assumption  will  not 
be  tolerated  by  free  men.  I,  for  one,  gentlemen,  do  not 
propose  to  have  a  socialist  for  the  rector  of  the  church 
which  I  attend  and  support.  And  I  maintain  the  privilege 
of  an  American  citizen  to  set  my  own  standards,  within 
the  law,  and  to  be  the  sole  arbitrar  of  those  standards." 

"  Good  !  "  muttered  Gordon  Atterbury.  Langmaid 
moved  uncomfortably. 

"  I  shall  not  waste  words,"  the  financier  continued. 
"  There  is  in  my  mind  no  question  that  we  are  justified  in 
demanding  from  our  rector  the  Christian  doctrines  to 
which  we  have  given  our  assent,  and  which  are  stated  in 
the  Creeds.  That  they  shall  be  subject  to  the  whims  of 
the  rector  is  beyond  argument.  I  do  not  pretend  to 
understand  either,  gentlemen,  the  nature  of  the  extraor 
dinary  change  that  has  taken  place  in  the  rector  of  St. 
John's.  I  am  not  well  versed  in  psychology.  I  am  in 
capable  of  flights  myself.  One  effect  of  this  change  is  an 
attitude  on  which  reasonable  considerations  would  seem 
to  have  no  effect. 

"  Our  resources,  fortunately,  are  not  yet  at  an  end. 
It  has  been  my  hope,  on  account  of  my  former  friendship 
with  Mr.  Hodder,  that  an  ecclesiastical  trial  might  not  be 
necessary.  It  now  seems  inevitable.  In  the  meantime, 
since  Mr.  Hodder  has  seen  fit  to  remain  in  spite  of  our 
protest,  I  do  not  intend  to  enter  this  church.  I  was 
prepared,  gentlemen,  as  some  of  you  no  doubt  know,  to 
spend  a  considerable  sum  in  adding  to  the  beauty  of  St. 
John's  and  to  the  charitable  activities  of  the  parish.  Mr. 
Hodder  has  not  disapproved  of  my  gifts  in  the  past,  but 
owing  to  his  present  scruples  concerning  my  worthiness,  I 
naturally  hesitate  to  press  the  matter  now."  Mr.  Parr 
indulged  in  the  semblance  of  a  smile.  "  I  fear  that  he 
must  take  the  responsibility  of  delaying  this  benefit,  with 
the  other  responsibilities  he  has  assumed." 

His  voice  changed.     It  became  sharper. 

"  In  short,  I  propose  to  withhold  all  contributions  for 
whatever  purpose  from  this  church  while  Mr.  Hodder  is 
rector,  and  I  advise  those  of  you  who  have  voted  for  his 


422  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

resignation  to  do  the  same.  In  the  meantime,  I  shall  give 
my  money  to  Calvary,  and  attend  its  services.  And  I 
shall  offer  further  a  resolution  —  which  I  am  informed  is 
within  our  right  —  to  discontinue  Mr.  Hodder's  salary." 

There  was  that  in  the  unparalleled  audacity  of  Eldon 
Parr  that  compelled  Hodder's  unwilling  admiration.  He 
sat  gazing  at  the  financier  during  this  speech,  speculating 
curiously  on  the  inner  consciousness  of  the  man  who  could 
utter  it.  Was  it  possible  that  he  had  no  sense  of  guilt  ? 
Even  so,  he  had  shown  a  remarkable  astuteness  in  relying 
on  the  conviction  that  he  (Hodder)  would  not  betray 
what  he  knew. 

He  was  suddenly  aware  that  Asa  Waring  was  standing 
beside  him. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Waring,  "  I  have  listened  to 
this  discussion  as  long  as  I  can  bear  it  with  patience. 
Had  I  been  told  of  it,  I  should  have  thought  it  incredible 
that  the  methods  of  the  money  changers  should  be  applied 
to  the  direction  and  control  of  the  house  of  God.  In  my 
opinion  there  is  but  one  word  which  is  suitable  for  what 
has  passed  here  to-night,  and  the  word  is  persecution. 
Perhaps  I  have  lived  too  long.  I  have  lived  to  see 
honourable,  upright  men  deprived  of  what  was  rightfully 
theirs,  driven  from  their  livelihood  by  the  rapacity  of 
those  who  strive  to  concentrate  the  wealth  and  power  of 
the  nation  into  their  hands.  I  have  seen  this  power 
gathering  strength,  stretching  its  arm  little  by  little  over 
the  institutions  I  fought  to  preserve,  and  which  I  cherish  : 
over  our  politics,  over  our  government,  yes,  and  even  over 
our  courts.  I  have  seen  it  poisoning  the  business  honour 
in  which  we  formerly  took  such  a  pride,  I  have  seen  it 
reestablishing  a  slavery  more  pernicious  than  that  which 
millions  died  to  efface.  I  have  seen  it  compel  a  subser 
vience  which  makes  me  ashamed,  as  an  American,  to 
witness." 

His  glance,  a  withering  moral  scorn,  darted  from  under 
the  grizzled  eyebrows  and  alighted  on  one  man  after 
another,  and  none  met  it.  Everett  Constable  coughed, 
Wallis  Plimpton  shifted  his  position,  the  others  sat  like 


THE   VESTRY   MEETS  423 

stones.  Asa  Waring  was  giving  vent  at  last  to  the  pent- 
up  feelings  of  many  years. 

"  And  now  that  power,  which  respects  nothing,  has 
crept  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  Church.  Our  rector  rec 
ognizes  it,  I  recognize  it,  —  there  is  not  a  man  here  who, 
in  his  heart,  misunderstands  me.  And  when  a  man  is 
found  who  has  the  courage  to  stand  up  against  it,  I 
honour  him  with  all  my  soul,  and  a  hope  that  was  almost 
dead  revives  in  me.  For  there  is  one  force,  and  one 
force  alone,  able  to  overcome  the  power  of  which  I  speak, 
—  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  And  the  mission  of  the  Church 
is  to  disseminate  that  spirit.  The  Church  is  the  cham 
pion  on  which  we  have  to  rely,  or  give  up  all  hope  of  vic 
tory.  The  Church  must  train  the  recruits.  And  if  the 
Church  herself  is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy, 
the  battle  is  lost. 

"  If  Mr.  Hodder  is  forced  out  of  this  church,  it  would 
be  better  to  lock  the  doors.  St.  John's  will  be  held  up, 
and  rightfully,  to  the  scorn  of  the  city.  All  the  money 
in  the  world  will  not  save  her.  Though  crippled,  she  has 
survived  one  disgrace,  when  she  would  not  give  free  shel 
ter  to  the  man  who  above  all  others  expressed  her  true 
spirit,  when  she  drove  Horace  Bentley  from  her  doors 
after  he  had  been  deprived  of  the  fortune  which  he  was 
spending  for  his  fellow-men.  She  will  not  survive 
another. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  Mr.  Parr's  motion  to  take  from  Mr. 
Hodder  his  living  will  go  through.  And  still  I  urge  him 
not  to  resign.  I  am  not  a  rich  man,  even  when  such 
property  as  I  have  is  compared  to  moderate  fortunes  of 
these  days,  but  I  would  pay  his  salary  willingly  out  of  my 
own  pocket  rather  than  see  him  go.  ..." 

"  I  call  the  attention  of  the  Chairman,"  said  Eldon  Parr, 
after  a  certain  interval  in  which  no  one  had  ventured  to 
speak,  "to  the  motion  before  the  vestry  relating  to  the 
discontinuance  of  Mr.  Hodder's  salary." 

It  was  then  that  the  unexpected  happened.  Gordon 
Atterbury  redeemed  himself.  His  respect  for  Mr.  War 
ing,  he  said,  made  him  hesitate  to  take  issue  with  him. 


424  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

He  could  speak  for  himself  and  for  a  number  of  people  in 
the  congregation  when  he  reiterated  his  opinion  that  they 
were  honestly  shocked  at  what  Mr.  Hodder  had  preached, 
and  that  this  was  his  sole  motive  in  requesting  Mr.  Hod 
der  to  resign.  He  thought,  under  the  circumstances,  that 
this  was  a  matter  which  might  safely  be  left  with  the 
bishop.  He  would  not  vote  to  deprive  Mr.  Hodder  of 
his  salary. 

The  motion  was  carried  by  a  vote  of  five  to  three. 
For  Eldon  Parr  well  knew  that  his  will  needed  no  re- 
enforcement  by  argument.  And  this  much  was  to  be 
said  for  him,  that  after  he  had  entered  a  battle  he 
never  hesitated,  never  under  any  circumstances  reconsid 
ered  the  probable  effect  of  his  course. 

As  for  the  others,  those  who  had  supported  him,  they 
were  cast  in  a  less  heroic  mould.  Even  Francis  Fer 
guson.  As  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea,  he  was 
compelled,  with  as  good  a  grace  as  possible,  to  choose  the 
devil.  He  was  utterly  unable  to  contemplate  the  disaster 
which  might  ensue  if  certain  financial  ties,  which  were 
thicker  than  cables,  were  snapped.  But  his  affection  for 
the  devil  was  not  increased  by  thus  being  led  into  a 
charge  from  which  he  would  willingly  have  drawn  back. 
Asa  Waring  might  mean  nothing  to  Eldon  Parr,  but  he 
meant  a  great  deal  to  Francis  Ferguson,  who  had  by  no 
means  forgotten  his  sensations  of  satisfaction  when  Mrs. 
Waring  had  made  her  first  call  in  Park  Street  on  Francis 
Ferguson's  wife.  He  left  the  room  in  such  a  state  of  ab 
sent-mindedness  as  actually  to  pass  Mr.  Parr  in  the  corri 
dor  without  speaking  to  him. 

The  case  of  Wallis  Plimpton  was  even  worse.  He  had 
married  the  Gores,  but  he  had  sought  to  bind  himself 
with  hoops  of  steel  to  the  Warings.  He  had  always 
secretly  admired  that  old  Roman  quality  (which  the 
Goodriches  —  their  connections  —  shared)  of  holding  fast 
to  their  course  unmindful  and  rather  scornful  of  influence 
which  swayed  their  neighbours.  The  clan  was  sufficient 
unto  itself,  satisfied  with  a  moderate  prosperity  and  a  con 
tinually  increasing  number  of  descendants.  The  name 


THE   VESTEY   MEETS  425 

was  unstained.  Such  are  the  strange  incongruities  in 
the  hearts  of  men,  that  few  realized  the  extent  to  which 
Wallis  Plimpton  had  partaken  of  the  general  hero-worship 
of  Phil  Goodrich.  He  had  assiduously  cultivated  his  re 
gard,  at  times  discreetly  boasted  of  it,  and  yet  had  never 
been  sure  of  it.  And  now  fate,  in  the  form  of  his  master, 
Eldon  Parr,  had  ironically  compelled  him  at  one  stroke  to 
undo  the  work  of  years.  As  soon  as  the  meeting  broke 
up,  he  crossed  the  room. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  regret  this,  Phil,"  he  said. 
"  Charlotte  has  very  strong  convictions,  you  know,  and 
so  have  I.  You  can  understand,  I  am  sure,  how  certain 
articles  of  belief  might  be  necessary  to  one  person,  and 
not  to  another." 

"  Yes,"  said  Phil,  "  I  can  understand.  We  needn't 
mention  the  articles,  Wallis."  And  he  turned  his  back. 

He  never  knew  the  pain  he  inflicted.  Wallis  Plimpton 
looked  at  the  rector,  who  stood  talking  to  Mr.  Waring, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  recoiled  from  an  overture. 
Something  in  the  faces  of  both  men  warned  him  away. 

Even  Everett  Constable,  as  they  went  home  in  the  cars 
together,  was  brief  with  him,  and  passed  no  comments 
when  Mr.  Plimpton  recovered  sufficiently  to  elaborate  on 
the  justification  of  their  act,  and  upon  the  extraordinary 
stand  taken  by  Phil  Goodrich  and  Mr.  Waring. 

"  They  might  have  told  us  what  they  were  going  to  do." 

Everett  Constable  eyed  him. 

"Would  it  have  made  any  difference,  Plimpton?"  he 
demanded. 

After  that  they  rode  in  silence,  until  they  came  to  a 
certain  West  End  corner,  where  they  both  decended. 
Little  Mr.  Constable's  sensations  were,  if  anything,  less 
enviable,  and  he  had  not  Mr.  Plimpton's  recuperative 
powers.  He  had  sold  that  night,  for  a  mess  of  pottage, 
the  friendship  and  respect  of  three  generations.  And  he 
had  fought,  for  pay,  against  his  own  people. 

And  lastly,  there  was  Langmaid,  whose  feelings  almost 
defy  analysis.  He  chose  to  walk  through  the  still  night 
the  four  miles  that  separated  him  from  his  home.  And  he 


426  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

went  back  over  the  years  of  his  life  until  he  found,  in  the 
rubbish  of  the  past,  a  forgotten  and  tarnished  jewel.  The 
discovery  pained  him.  For  that  jewel  was  the  ideal  he 
had  carried  away,  as  a  youth,  —  from  the  old  law  school 
at  the  bottom  of  Hamilton  Place,  —  a  gift  from  no  less  a 
man  than  the  great  lawyer  and  public-spirited  citizen, 
Judge  Henry  Goodrich  —  Philip  Goodrich's  grandfather, 
whose  seated  statue  marked  the  entrance  of  the  library. 
He,  Nelson  Langmaid,  had  gone  forth  from  that  school 
resolved  to  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  that  man,  —  but 
somehow  he  missed  the  path.  Somehow  the  jewel  had 
lost  its  fire.  There  had  come  a  tempting  offer,  and  a 
struggle  —  just  one:  a  readjustment  on  the  plea  that  the 
world  had  changed  since  the  days  of  Judge  Goodrich, 
whose  uncompromising  figure  had  begun  to  fade :  an  ex 
citing  discovery  that  he,  Nelson  Langmaid,  possessed  the 
gift  of  drawing  up  agreements  which  had  the  faculty  of 
passing  magically  through  the  meshes  of  the  Statutes. 
Affluence  had  followed,  and  fame,  and  even  that  high  office 
which  the  Judge  himself  had  held,  the  Presidency  of  the 
State  Bar  Association.  In  all  that  time,  one  remark,  which 
he  had  tried  to  forget,  had  cut  him  to  the  quick.  Bedloe 
Hubbell  had  said  on  the  political  platform  that  Langmaid 
got  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year  for  keeping  Eldon 
Parr  out  of  jail. 

Once  he  stopped  in  the  street,  his  mind  suddenly  going 
back  to  the  action  of  the  financier  at  the  vestry  meeting. 

"  Confound  him ! "  he  said  aloud,  "  he  has  been  a  fool 
for  once.  I  told  him  not  to  do  it." 

He  stood  at  last  in  the  ample  vestibule  of  his  house, 
singling  out  his  latch-key,  when  suddenly  the  door  opened, 
and  his  daughter  Helen  appeared. 

"  Oh,  dad,"  she  cried,  "why  are  you  so  late?  I've  been 
watching  for  you.  I  know  you've  let  Mr.  Hodder  stay." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  widened  eyes. 

"  Don't  tell  me  that  you've  made  him  resign.  I  can't 
—  I  won't  believe  it." 

"  He  isn't  going  to  resign,  Helen,"  Langmaid  replied,  in 
an  odd  voice.  "  He  — he  refused  to." 


CHAPTER   XXV 

"  KISE,    CROWNED    WITH   LIGHT  !  " 


THE  Church  of  St.  John's,  after  a  peaceful  existence  of 
so  many  years,  had  suddenly  become  the  stage  on  which 
rapid  and  bewildering  dramas  were  played :  the  storm- 
centre  of  chaotic  forces,  hitherto  unperceived,  drawn  from 
the  atmosphere  around  her.  For  there  had  been  more 
publicity,  more  advertising.  "  The  Rector  of  St.  John's 
will  not  talk "  —  such  had  been  one  headline :  neither 
would  the  vestry  talk.  And  yet,  despite  all  this  secrecy, 
the  whole  story  of  the  suspension  of  Hodder's  salary  was 
in  print,  and  an  editorial  (which  was  sent  to  him)  from 
a  popular  and  sensational  journal,  on  "  tainted  money,"  in 
which  Hodder  was  held  up  to  the  .public  as  a  martyr  be 
cause  he  refused  any  longer  to  accept  for  the  Church  ill- 
gotten  gains  from  Consolidated  Tractions  and  the  like. 

This  had  opened  again  the  floodgates  of  the  mails,  and 
it  seemed  as  though  every  person  who  had  a  real  or 
fancied  grievance  against  Eldon  Parr  had  written  him. 
Nor  did  others  of  his  congregation  escape.  The  press  of 
visitors  at  the  parish  house  suddenly  increased  once  more, 
men  and  women  came  to  pour  into  his  ears  an  appalling 
series  of  confessions ;  wrongs  which,  like  Garvin's,  had 
engendered  bitter  hatreds ;  woes,  temptations,  bewilder 
ments.  Hodder  strove  to  keep  his  feet,  sought  wisdom 
to  deal  patiently  with  all,  though  at  times  he  was  tried  to 
the  uttermost.  And  he  held  steadfastly  before  his  mind 
the  great  thing,  that  they  did  come.  It  was  what  he  had 
longed  for,  prayed  for,  despaired  of.  He  was  no  longer 
crying  in  the  empty  wilderness,  but  at  last  in  touch  —  in 

427 


428  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

natural  touch  with  life :  with  life  in  all  its  sorrow,  its 
crudity  and  horror.  He  had  contrived,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  to  make  the  connection  for  his  church. 

That  church  might  have  been  likened  to  a  ship  sailing 
out  of  the  snug  harbour  in  which  she  had  lain  so  long  to 
range  herself  gallantly  beside  those  whom  she  had  formerly 
beheld,  with  complacent  cowardice,  fighting  her  fight : 
young  men  and  women,  enlisted  under  other  banners  than 
her  own,  doing  their  part  in  the  battle  of  the  twentieth 
century  for  humanity.  Her  rector  was  her  captain.  It 
was  he  who  had  cut  her  cables,  quelled,  for  a  time  at 
least,  her  mutineers ;  and  sought  to  hearten  those  of  her 
little  crew  who  wavered,  who  shrank  back  appalled  as  they 
realized  something  of  the  immensity  of  the  conflict  in 
which  her  destiny  was  to  be  wrought  out. 

To  carry  on  the  figure,  Philip  Goodrich  might  have 
been  deemed  her  first  officer.  He,  at  least,  was  not  ap 
palled,  but  grimly  conscious  of  the  greatness  of  the  task 
to  which  they  had  set  their  hands.  The  sudden  trans 
formation  of  conservative  St.  John's  was  no  more  amazing 
than  that  of  the  son  of  a  family  which  had  never  been 
without  influence  in  the  community.  But  that  influence 
had  always  been  conservative.  And  Phil  Goodrich  had 
hitherto  taken  but  a  listless  interest  in  the  church  of  his 
fathers.  Fortune  had  smiled  upon  him,  trusts  had  come 
to  him  unsought.  He  had  inherited  the  family  talent  for 
the  law,  the  freedom  to  practise  when  and  where  he  chose. 
His  love  of  active  sport  had  led  him  into  many  vacations, 
when  he  tramped  through  marsh  and  thicket  after  game, 
and  at  five  and  forty  there  was  not  an  ounce  of  super 
fluous  flesh  on  his  hard  body.  In  spite  of  his  plain  speak 
ing,  an  overwhelming  popularity  at  college  had  followed 
him  to  his  native  place,  and  no  organization,  sporting  or 
serious,  was  formed  in  the  city  that  the  question  was  not 
asked,  "  What  does  Goodrich  think  about  it  ?  " 

His  whole-souled  enlistment  in  the  cause  of  what  was 
regarded  as  radical  religion  became,  therefore,  the  subject 
of  amazed  comment  in  the  many  clubs  he  now  neglected. 
The  "squabble  "in  St.  John's,  as  it  was  generally  referred 


"RISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  429 

to,  had  been  aired  in  the  press,  but  such  was  the  magic 
in  a  name  made  without  conscious  effort  that  Phil  Good- 
rich's  participation  in  the  struggle  had  a  palpably  disarm 
ing  effect :  and  there  were  not  a  few  men  who  commonly 
spent  their  Sunday  mornings  behind  plate-glass  windows, 
surrounded  by  newspapers,  as  well  as  some  in  the  athletic 
club  (whose  contests  Mr.  Goodrich  sometimes  refereed), 
who  went  to  St.  John's  out  of  curiosity  and  who  waited, 
afterwards,  for  an  interview  with  Phil  or  the  rector.  The 
remark  of  one  of  these  was  typical  of  others.  He  had  never 
taken  much  stock  in  religion,  but  if  Goodrich  went  in  for 
it  he  thought  he'd  go  and  look  it  over. 

Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  Phil  did  not  drop  in  at  the 
parish  house.  .  .  .  And  he  set  himself,  with  all  the  vigour 
of  an  unsquandered  manhood,  to  help  Hodder  to  solve  the 
multitude  of  new  problems  by  which  they  were  beset.  .  .  . 

A  free  church  was  a  magnificent  ideal,  but  how  was  it 
to  be  carried  on  without  an  Eldon  Parr,  a  Ferguson,  a 
Constable,  a  Mrs.  Larrabbee,  or  a  Gore  who  would  make 
up  the  deficit  at  the  end  of  the  year  ?  Could  weekly  con 
tributions,  on  the  envelope  system,  be  relied  upon,  pro 
vided  the  people  continued  to  come  and  fill  the  pews  of 
absent  and  outraged  parishioners  ?  The  music  was  the 
most  expensive  in  the  city,  although  Mr.  Taylor,  the 
organist,  had  come  to  the  rector  and  offered  to  cut  his 
salary  in  half,  and  to  leave  that  in  abeyance  until  the 
finances  could  be  adjusted.  And  his  example  had  been 
followed  by  some  of  the  high-paid  men  in  the  choir. 
Others  had  offered  to  sing  without  pay.  And  there  were 
the  expenses  of  the  parish  house,  an  alarming  sum  now 
Eldon  Parr  had  withdrawn :  the  salaries  of  the  assistants. 
Hodder,  who  had  saved  a  certain  sum  in  past  years,  would 
take  nothing  for  the  present.  .  .  .  Asa  Waring  and  Phil 
Goodrich  borrowed  on  their  own  responsibility.  .  .  . 

II 

Something  of  the  overwhelming  nature  of  the  forces 
Hodder  had  summoned  was  visibly  apparent  on  that  first 


430  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Sunday  after  what  many  had  called  his  apostasy.  Instead 
of  the  orderly,  sprucely-dressed  groups  of  people  which 
were  wont  to  linger  in  greetings  before  the  doors  of  St. 
John's,  a  motley  crowd  thronged  the  pavement  and  streamed 
into  the  church,  pressing  up  the  aisles  and  invading  the 
sacred  precincts  where  decorous  parishioners  had  for  so 
many  years  knelt  in  comfort  and  seclusion.  The  familiar 
figure  of  Gordon  Atterbury  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and 
the  Atterbury  pew  was  occupied  by  shopgirls  in  gaudy 
hats.  Eldon  Parr's  pew  was  filled,  Everett  Constable's, 
Wallis  Plimpton's ;  and  the  ushers  who  had  hastily  been 
mustered  were  awestricken  and  powerless.  Such  a  resist 
less  invasion  by  the  hordes  of  the  unknown  might  well 
have  struck  with  terror  some  of  those  who  hitherto  had 
had  the  courage  to  stand  up  loyally  in  the  rector's  support. 
It  had  a  distinct  flavour  of  revolution :  contained,  for 
some,  a  grim  suggestion  of  a  time  when  that  vague,  ir 
responsible,  and  restless  monster,  the  mob,  would  rise  in 
its  might  and  brutally  and  inexorably  take  possession  of 
all  property. 

Alison  had  met  Eleanor  Goodrich  in  Burton  Street,  and 
as  the  two  made  their  way  into  the  crowded  vestibule 
they  encountered  Martha  Preston,  whose  husband  was 
Alison's  cousin,  in  the  act  of  flight. 

"  You're  not  going  in!  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Of  course  we  are." 

Mrs.  Preston  stared  at  Alison  in  amazement. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  still  here,"  she  said,  irrele 
vantly.  "  I'm  pretty  liberal,  my  dear,  as  you  know,  —  but 
this  is  more  than  I  can  stand.  Look  at  them!"  She  drew 
up  her  skirts  as  a  woman  brushed  against  her.  "  I  believe 
in  the  poor  coming  to  church,  and  all  that,  but  this  is 
mere  vulgar  curiosity,  the  result  of  all  that  odious  ad 
vertising  in  the  newspapers.  My  pew  is  filled  with  them. 
If  I  had  stayed,  I  should  have  fainted.  I  don't  know 
what  to  think  of  Mr.  Hodder." 

"  Mr.  Hodder  is  not  to  blame  for  the  newspapers,"  re 
plied  Alison,  warmly.  She  glanced  around  her  at  the 
people  pushing  past,  her  eyes  shining,  her  colour  high, 


"RISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  431 

and  there  was  the  ring  of  passion  in  her  voice  which  had 
on  Martha  Preston  a  peculiarly  disquieting  effect.  "  I 
think  it's  splendid  that  they  are  here  at  all!  I  don't  care 
what  brought  them." 

Mrs.  Preston  stared  again.  She  was  a  pretty,  intelli 
gent  woman,  at  whose  dinner  table  one  was  sure  to  hear 
the  discussion  of  some  "  modern  problem  " :  she  believed 
herself  to  be  a  socialist.  Her  eyes  sought  Eleanor  Good- 
rich's,  who  stood  by,  alight  with  excitement. 

uBut  surely  you,  Eleanor — you're  not  going  in! 
You'll  never  be  able  to  stand  it,  even  if  you  find  a  seat. 
The  few  people  we  know  who've  come  are  leaving.  I 
just  saw  the  Allan  Pendletons " 

"  Have  you  seen  Phil  ?"  Eleanor  a^ked. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he's  in  there,  and  even  'ie's  helpless.  And  as 
I  came  out  poor  Mr.  Bradley  was  jammed  up  against  the 
wall.  He  seemed  perfectly  stunned.  ..." 

At  this  moment  they  were  thrust  apart.  Eleanor 
quivered  as  she  was  carried  through  the  swinging  doors 
into  the  church. 

"  I  think  you're  right,"  she  whispered  to  Alison,  "  it  is 
splendid.  There's  something  about  it  that  takes  hold  of 
one,  that  carries  one  away.  It  makes  me  wonder  how  it 
can  be  guided  —  what  will  come  of  it  ?  " 

They  caught  sight  of  Phil  pushing  his  way  towards 
them,  and  his  face  bore  the  set  look  of  belligerency  which 
Eleanor  knew  so  well,  but  he  returned  her  smile.  Alison's 
heart  warmed  towards  him. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Most 
of  our  respectable  friends  who  dared  to  come  have  left  in 
a  towering  rage  —  to  institute  lawsuits,  probably.  At 
any  rate,  strangers  are  not  being  made  to  wait  until  ten 
minutes  after  the  service  begins.  That's  one  barbarous 
custom  abolished." 

"  Strangers  seem  to  have  taken  matters  in  their  own 
hands  for  once."  Eleanor  smiled.  "  We've  made  up  our 
minds  to  stay,  Phil,  even  if  we  have  to  stand." 

"  That's  the  right  spirit,"  declared  her  husband,  glancing 
at  Alison,  who  had  remained  silent,  with  approval  and  by 


432  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

no  means  a  concealed  surprise.  "  I  think  I  know  of  a 
place  where  I  can  squeeze  you  in,  near  Professor  Bridges 
and  Sally,  on  the  side  aisle." 

"Are  George  and  Sally  here  ?"  Eleanor  exclaimed. 

"  Mr.  Hodder,"  said  Phil,  "  is  converting  the  heathen. 
You  couldn't  have  kept  George  away.  And  it  was 
George  who  made  Sally  stay!  " 

Presently  they  found  themselves  established  between  a 
rawboned  young  workingman  who  smelled  strongly  of 
soap,  whose  hair  was  plastered  tightly  against  his  fore 
head,  and  a  young  woman  who  leaned  against  the  wall. 
The  black  in  which  she  was  dressed  enhanced  the  white 
ness  and  weariness  of  her  face,  and  she  sat  gazing  ahead  of 
her,  apparently  unconscious  of  those  who  surrounded  her, 
her  hands  tightly  folded  in  her  lap.  In  their  immediate 
vicinity,  indeed,  might  have  been  found  all  the  variety  of 
type  seen  in  the  ordinary  street  car.  And  in  truth  there 
were  some  who  seemed  scarcely  to  realize  they  were  not 
in  a  public  vehicle.  An  elaborately  dressed  female  in 
front  of  them,  whose  expansive  hat  brushed  her  neigh 
bours,  made  audible  comments  to  a  stout  man  with  a  red 
neck  which  was  set  in  a  crease  above  his  low  collar. 

"  They  tell  me  Eldon  Parr's  pew  has  a  gold  plate  on  it. 
I  wish  1  knew  which  it  was.  It  ain't  this  one,  anyway, 
I'll  bet." 

"  Say,  they  march  in  in  this  kind  of  a  church,  don't 
they  ?  "  some  one  said  behind  them. 

Eleanor,  with  her  lips  tightly  pressed,  opened  her  prayer- 
book.  Alison's  lips  were  slightly  parted  as  she  gazed 
about  her,  across  the  aisle.  Her  experience  of  the  Sunday 
before,  deep  and  tense  as  it  had  been,  seemed  as  nothing 
compared  to  this;  the  presence  of  all  these  people  stimu 
lated  her  inexpressibly,  fired  her;  and  she  felt  the  blood 
pulsing  through  her  body  as  she  contrasted  this  gathering 
with  the  dignified,  scattered  congregation  she  had  known. 
She  scarcely  recognized  the  church  itself.  .  .  .  She 
speculated  on  the  homes  from  which  these  had  come,  and 
the  motives  which  had  brought  them. 

For  a  second  the  perfume  of  the  woman  in  front,  min- 


"RISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  433 

gling  with  other  less  definable  odours,  almost  sickened  her, 
evoking  suggestions  of  tawdry,  trivial,  vulgar  lives,  fed 
on  sensation  and  excitement;  but  the  feeling  was  almost 
immediately  swept  away  by  a  renewed  sense  of  the  big 
ness  of  the  thing  which  she  beheld,  —  of  which,  indeed, 
she  was  a  part.  And  her  thoughts  turned  more  definitely 
to  the  man  who  had  brought  it  all  about.  Could  he  con 
trol  it,  subdue  it  ?  Here  was  Opportunity  suddenly  upon 
him,  like  a  huge,  curving,  ponderous  wave.  Could  he  ride 
it?  or  would  it  crush  him  remorselessly? 

Sensitive,  alert,  quickened  as  she  was,  she  began  to  be 
aware  of  other  values:  of  the  intense  spiritual  hunger  in 
the  eyes  of  the  woman  in  black,  the  yearning  of  barren, 
hopeless  existences.  And  here  and  there  Alison's  look 
fell  upon  more  prosperous  individuals  whose  expressions 
proclaimed  incredulity,  a  certain  cynical  amusement  at 
the  spectacle:  others  seemed  uneasy,  as  having  got  more 
than  they  had  bargained  for,  deliberating  whether  to 
flee  .  .  .  and  then,  just  as  her  suspense  was  becoming 
almost  unbearable,  the  service  began.  .  .  . 

How  it  had  been  accomplished,  the  thing  she  later  felt, 
was  beyond  the  range  of  intellectual  analysis,,  Nor  could 
she  have  told  how  much  later,  since  the  passage  of  time 
had  gone  unnoticed.  Curiosities,  doubts,  passions,  long 
ings,  antagonisms  —  all  these  seemed  —  as  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  —  to  have  been  fused  into  one  common 
but  ineffable  emotion.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  impression 
to  which  Alison  startlingly  awoke.  All  the  while  she 
had  been  conscious  of  Hodder,  from  the  moment  she  had 
heard  his  voice  in  the  chancel ;  but  somehow  this  con 
sciousness  of  him  had  melted,  imperceptibly,  into  that  of 
the  great  congregation,  once  divided  against  itself,  which 
had  now  achieved  unity  of  soul. 

The  mystery  as  to  how  this  had  been  effected  was  the 
more  elusive  when  she  considered  the  absence  of  all 
methods  which  might  have  been  deemed  revivalistic. 
Few  of  those  around  her  evinced  a  familiarity  with  the 
historic  service.  And  then  occurred  to  her  his  explana 
tion  of  personality  as  the  medium  by  which  all  truth  is 

2r 


434  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

revealed,  by  which  the  current  of  religion,  the  motive 
power  in  all  history,  is  transmitted.  Surely  this  was  the 
explanation,  if  it  might  be  called  one  !  That  tingling 
sense  of  a  pervading  spirit  which  was  his,  —  and  yet  not 
his.  He  was  the  incandescent  medium,  and  yet,  para 
doxically,  gained  in  identity  and  individuality  and  was 
inseparable  from  the  thing  itself. 

She  could  not  see  him.  A  pillar  hid  the  chancel  from 
her  view.  .  .  . 

The  service,  to  which  she  had  objected  as  archaic,  be 
came  subordinate,  spiritualized,  dominated  by  the  per 
sonality.  Hodder  had  departed  from  the  usual  custom 
by  giving  out  the  page  of  the  psalter :  and  the  verses,  the 
throbbing  responses  which  arose  from  every  corner  of 
the  church,  assumed  a  new  significance,  the  vision  of  the 
ancient  seer  revived.  One  verse  he  read  resounded  with 
prophecy. 

"  Thou  shalt  deliver  me  from  the  strivings  of  the  people: 
and  thou  shalt  make  me  the  head  of  the  heathen." 

And  the  reply: 

"  A  people  whom  I  have  not  known  shall  serve  me." 

The  workingman  next  to  Alison  had  no  prayer-book. 
She  thrust  her  own  into  his  hand,  and  they  read  from  it 
together.  .  .  . 

When  they  came  to  the  second  hymn  the  woman  in 
front  of  her  had  wonderfully  shed  her  vulgarity.  Her 
voice  —  a  really  good  one  —  poured  itself  out : 

"  See  a  long  race  thy  spacious  courts  adorn, 
See  future  sons,  and  daughters  yet  unborn, 
In  crowding  ranks  on  every  side  arise, 
Demanding  life,  impatient  for  the  skies." 

Once  Alison  would  have  been  critical  of  the  words. 
She  was  beyond  that,  now.  What  did  it  matter,  if  the 
essential  Thing  were  present? 

The  sermon  was  a  surprise.  And  those  who  had  come 
for  excitement,  for  the  sensation  of  hearing  a  denuncia 
tion  of  a  class  they  envied  and  therefore  hated,  and  never 
theless  strove  to  imitate,  were  themselves  rebuked.  Were 


"KISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  435 

not  their  standards  the  same  ?  And  if  the  standard  were 
false,  it  followed  inevitably  that  the  life  was  false  also. 

Hodder  fairly  startled  these  out  of  their  preconceived 
notions  of  Christianity.  Let  them  shake  out  of  their 
minds  everything  they  had  thought  it  to  mean,  church- 
going,  acceptance  of  creed  and  dogma,  contributive  charity, 
withdrawal  from  the  world,  rites  and  ceremonies :  it  was 
none  of  these. 

The  motive  in  the  world  to-day  was  the  acquisition  of 
property ;  the  motive  of  Christianity  was  absolutely  and 
uncompromisingly  opposed  to  this.  Shock  their  practical 
sense  as  it  might,  Christianity  looked  forward  with  stead 
fast  faith  to  a  time  when  the  incentive  to  amass  property 
would  be  done  away  with,  since  it  was  a  source  of  evil  and 
a  curse  to  mankind.  If  they  would  be  Christians,  let 
them  face  that.  Let  them  enter  into  life,  into  the  struggles 
going  on  around  them  to-day  against  greed,  corruption, 
slavery,  poverty,  vice  and  crime.  Let  them  protest,  let 
them  fight,  even  as  Jesus  Christ  had  fought  and  pro 
tested.  For  as  sure  as  they  sat  there  the  day  would 
come  when  they  would  be  called  to  account,  would  be 
asked  the  question  —  what  had  they  done  to  make  the 
United  States  of  America  a  better  place  to  live  in? 

There  were  in  the  Apostolic  writings  and  tradition  mis 
interpretations  of  life  which  had  done  much  harm.  Early 
Christianity  had  kept  its  eyes  fixed  on  another  world,  and 
had  ignored  this :  had  overlooked  the  fact  that  every  man 
and  woman  was  put  here  to  do  a  particular  work.  In  the 
first  epistle  of  Peter  the  advice  was  given,  "  submit  your 
selves  to  every  ordinance  of  man  for  the  Lord's  sake." 
But  Christ  had  preached  democracy,  responsibility,  had 
foreseen  a  millennium,  the  fulfilment  of  his  Kingdom,  when 
all  men,  inspired  by  the  Spirit,  would  make  and  keep  in 
spirit  the  ordinances  of  God. 

Before  they  could  do  God's  work  and  man's  work  they 
must  first  be  awakened,  filled  with  desire.  Desire  was 
power.  And  he  prayed  that  some  of  them,  on  this  day, 
would  receive  that  desire,  that  power  which  nothing  could 
resist.  The  desire  which  would  lead  each  and  every  one 


436  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

to  the  gates  of  the  Inner  World  which  was  limitless  and 
eternal,  filled  with  dazzling  light.  .  .  . 

Let  them  have  faith  then.  Not  credulity  in  a  vague 
God  they  could  not  imagine,  but  faith  in  the  Spirit  of  the 
Universe,  humanity,  in  Jesus  Christ  who  had  been  the 
complete  human  revelation  of  that  Spirit,  who  had  suf 
fered  and  died  that  man  might  not  live  in  ignorance  of  it. 
To  doubt  humanity,  —  such  was  the  Great  Refusal,  the 
sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  repudiation  of  the  only 
true  God ! 

After  a  pause,  he  spoke  simply  of  his  hope  for  St. 
John's.  If  he  remained  here  his  ambition  was  that  it 
would  be  the  free  temple  of  humanity,  of  Jesus  Christ, 
supported  not  by  a  few,  but  by  all,  —  each  in  accordance 
with  his  means.  Of  those  who  could  afford  nothing, 
nothing  would  be  required.  Perhaps  this  did  not  sound 
practical,  nor  would  it  be  so  if  the  transforming  inspira 
tion  failed.  He  could  only  trust  and  try,  hold  up  to  them 
the  vision  of  the  Church  as  a  community  of  willing  workers 


for  the  Kingdom. 


Ill 


After  the  service  was  over  the  people  lingered  in  the 
church,  standing  in  the  pews  and  aisles,  as  though  loath 
to  leave.  The  woman  with  the  perfume  and  the  elaborate 
hat  was  heard  to  utter  a  succinct  remark. 

"Say,  Charlie,  I  guess  he's  all  right.  I  never  had  it 
put  like  that." 

The  thick-necked  man's  reply  was  inaudible. 

Eleanor  Goodrich  was  silent  and  a  little  pale  as  she 
pressed  close  to  Alison.  Her  imagination  had  been 
stretched,  as  it  were,  and  she  was  still  held  in  awe  by  the 
vastness  of  what  she  had  heard  and  seen.  Vaster  even 
than  ever,  —  so  it  appeared  now,  —  demanding  greater 
sacrifices  than  she  had  dreamed  of.  She  looked  back 
upon  the  old  as  at  receding  shores.  .  .  . 

Alison,  with  absorbed  fascination,  watched  the  people  ; 
encountered,  here  and  there,  recognitions  from  men  and 


"RISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  437 

women  with  whom  she  had  once  danced  and  dined  in 
what  now  seemed  a  previous  existence.  Why  had  they 
come?  and  how  had  they  received  the  message?  She 
ran  into  a  little  man,  a  dealer  in  artists'  supplies  who 
once  had  sold  her  paints  and  brushes,  who  stared  and 
bowed  uncertainly.  She  surprised  him  by  taking  his  hand. 

"  Did  you  like  it  ?  "  she  asked,  impulsively. 

"  It's  what  I've  been  thinking  for  years,  Miss  Parr,"  he 
responded,  "  thinking  and  feeling.  But  I  never  knew  it 
was  Christianity.  And  I  never  thought  — "  he  stopped 
and  looked  at  her,  alarmed. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "I  believe  in  it,  too  —  or  try  to." 

She  left  him,  mentally  gasping.  .  .  .  Without,  on  the 
sidewalk,  Eleanor  Goodrich  was  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  stockily  built  man,  inclined  to  stoutness ;  he  had  a 
brown  face  and  a  clipped,  bristly  mustache.  Alison 
paused  involuntarily,  and  saw  him  start  and  hesitate  as 
his  clear,  direct  gaze  met  her  own.  .  .  . 

Bedloe  Hubbell  was  one  of  those  who  had  once  sought 
to  marry  her.  She  recalled  him  as  an  amiable  and  aimless 
boy  ;  and  after  she  had  gone  East  she  had  received  with 
incredulity  and  then  with  amusement  the  news  of  his 
venture  into  altruistic  politics.  It  was  his  efficiency  she 
had  doubted,  not  his  sincerity.  Later  tidings,  contemptu 
ous  and  eventually  irritable  utterances  of  her  own  father, 
together  with  accounts  in  the  New  York  newspapers  of 
his  campaign,  had  convinced  her  in  spite  of  herself  that 
Bedloe  Hubbell  had  actually  shaken  the  seats  of  power. 
And  somehow,  as  she  now  took  him  in,  he  looked  it. 

His  transformation  was  one  of  the  signs,  one  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  times.  The  ridicule  and  abuse  of  the 
press,  the  opposition  and  enmity  of  his  childhood  friends, 
had  developed  the  man  of  force  she  now  beheld,  and  who 
came  forward  to  greet  her. 

"  Alison  !  "  he  exclaimed.  He  had  changed  in  one 
sense,  and  not  in  another.  Her  colour  deepened  as  the 
sound  of  his  voice  brought  back  the  lapsed  memories  of 
the  old  intimacy.  For  she  had  been  kind  to  him,  kinder 
than  to  any  other  ;  and  the  news  of  his  marriage  —  to  a 


438  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

woman  from  the  Pacific  coast  —  had  actually  induced  in 
her  certain  longings  and  regrets.  When  the  cards  had 
reached  her,  New  York  and  the  excitement  of  the  life  into 
which  she  had  been  weakly,  if  somewhat  unwittingly, 
drawn  had  already  begun  to  pall. 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,"  she  told  him.  "  I've  heard  — - 
so  many  things.  And  I'm  very  much  in  sympathy  with 
what  you're  doing." 

They  crossed  the  street,  and  walked  away  from  the 
church  together.  She  had  surprised  him,  and  made  him 
uncomfortable. 

"  You've  been  away  so  long,"  he  managed  to  say,  "  per 
haps  you  do  not  realize " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  do,"  she  interrupted.  "  I  am  on  the  other 
side,  on  your  side.  I  thought  of  writing  you,  when  you 
so  nearly  won  last  autumn." 

"  You  see  it,  too  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  I've  changed,  too.  Not  so  much  as  you,"  she 
added,  shyly.  "  I  always  had  a  certain  sympathy,  you 
know,  with  the  Robin  Hoods." 

He  laughed  at  her  designation,  both  pleased  and  taken 
aback  by  her  praise.  .  .  .  But  he  wondered  if  she  knew 
the  extent  of  his  criticism  of  her  father. 

"  That  rector  is  a  wonderful  man,"  he  broke  out,  irrel 
evantly.  "  I  can't  4  get  over '  him  —  I  can't  quite  grasp 
the  fact  that  he  exists,  that  he  has  dared  to  do  what  lie 
has  done." 

This  brought  her  colour  back,  but  she  faced  him  bravely. 

"  You  think  he  is  wonderful,  then  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

She  assented.  "  But  I  am  curious  to  know  why  you  do. 
Somehow,  I  never  thought  of  you ' 

"  As  religious,"  he  supplied.  "  And  you  ?  If  I  remem 
ber  rightly " 

"Yes,"  she  interrupted,  "I  revolted,  too.  But  Mr. 
Hodder  puts  it  so  —  it  makes  one  wonder." 

"  He  has  not  only  made  me  wonder,"  declared  Bedloe 
Hubbell,  emphatically,  "  I  never  knew  what  religion  was 
until  I  heard  this  man  last  Sunday." 


"RISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  439 

"  Last  Sunday  !  " 

"  Until  then,  I  hadn't  been  inside  of  a  church  for  fifteen 
years,  —  except  to  get  married.  My  wife  takes  the  chil 
dren,  occasionally,  to  a  Presbyterian  church  near  us." 

"And  why  did  you  go  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  am  a  little  ashamed  of  my  motive,"  he  confessed. 
"  There  were  rumours  —  I  don't  pretend  to  know  how  they 
got  about  — "  he  hesitated,  once  more  aware  of  delicate 
ground.  "  Wallis  Plimpton  said  something  to  a  man  who 
told  me.  I  believe  I  went  out  of  sheer  curiosity  to  hear 
what  Hodder  would  have  to  say.  And  then,  I  had  been 
reading,  wondering  whether  there  were  anything  in  Chris 
tianity,  after  all." 

"  Yes  ? "  she  said,  careless  now  as  to  what  cause  he 
might  attribute  her  eagerness.  "  And  he  gave  you  some 
thing  ?  " 

It  was  then  she  grasped  the  truth  that  this  sudden 
renewed  intimacy  was  the  result  of  the  impression  Hodder 
had  left  upon  the  minds  of  both. 

"  He  gave  me  everything"  Bedloe  Hubbell  replied.  "I 
am  willing  to  acknowledge  it  freely.  In  his  explanation 
of  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  he  gave  me  the  clew 
to  our  modern  times.  What  was  for  me  an  inextricable 
puzzle  has  become  clear  as  day.  He  has  made  me  under 
stand,  at  last,  the  force  which  stirred  me,  which  goaded 
me  until  I  was  fairly  compelled  to  embark  in  the  move 
ment  which  the  majority  of  our  citizens  still  continue  to 
regard  as  quixotic.  I  did  not  identify  that  force  with 
religion,  then,  and  when  I  looked  back  on  the  first  crazy 
campaign  we  embarked  upon,  with  the  whole  city  laugh 
ing  at  me  and  at  the  obscure  and  impractical  personnel 
we  had,  there  were  moments  when  it  seemed  incomprehen 
sible  folly.  I  had  nothing  to  gain,  and  everything  to  lose 
by  such  a  venture.  I  was  lazy  and  easy-going,  as  you 
know.  I  belonged  to  the  privileged  class,  I  had  sufficient 
money  to  live  in  comparative  luxury  all  my  days,  I  had 
no  grudge  against  these  men  whom  I  had  known  all  my 
life." 

"  But  it  must  have  had  some  beginning,"  said  Alison. 


440  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  was  urged  to  run  for  the  city  council,  by  these  very 
men."  Bedloe  Hubbell  smiled  at  the  recollection.  "  They 
accuse  me  now  of  having  indulged  once  in  the  same  prac 
tice,  for  which  I  am  condemning. them.  Our  company 
did  accept  rebates,  and  we  sought  favours  from  the  city 
government.  I  have  confessed  it  freely  on  the  platform. 
Even  during  my  first  few  months  in  the  council  what  may 
be  called  the  old  political  practices  seemed  natural  to  me. 
But  gradually  the  iniquity  of  it  all  began  to  dawn  on  me, 
and  then  I  couldn't  rest  until  I  had  done  something  to 
wards  stopping  it. 

"  At  length  I  began  to  see,"  he  continued,  "  that  educa 
tion  of  the  masses  was  to  be  our  only  preserver,  that  we 
should  have  to  sink  or  swim  by  that.  I  began  to  see, 
dimly,  that  this  was  true  for  other  movements  going  on 
to-day.  Now  comes  Hodder  with  what  I  sincerely  believe 
is  the  key.  He  compels  men  like  me  to  recognize  that 
our  movements  are  not  merely  moral,  but  religious. 
Religion,  as  yet  unidentified,  is  the  force  behind  these 
portentous  stirrings  of  politics  in  our  country,  from  sea 
to  sea.  He  aims,  not  to  bring  the  Church  into  politics, 
but  to  make  her  the  feeder  of  these  movements.  Men  join 
them  to-day  from  all  motives,  but  the  religious  is  the  only 
one  to  which  they  may  safely  be  trusted.  He  has  rescued 
the  jewel  from  the  dustheap  of  tradition,  and  holds  it  up, 
shining,  before  our  eyes." 

Alison  locked  at  her  companion. 

"That,"  she  said,  "is  a  very  beautiful  phrase." 

Bedloe  Hubbell  smiled  queerly. 

"I  don't  know  why  I'm  telling  you  all  this.  I  can't 
usually  talk  about  it.  But  the  sight  of  that  congregation 
this  morning,  mixed  as  it  was,  and  the  way  he  managed  to 
weld  it  together " 

"  Ah,  you  noticed  that  !  "  she  exclaimed  sharply. 

"  Noticed  it  !  " 

"I  know.     It  was  a  question  of  feeling  it." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  Will  he  succeed  ?"  she  asked  presently. 

"  Ah,"  said  Bedloe  Hubbell,  "  how  is  it  possible  to  pre- 


"KISE,   CROWNED   WITH   LIGHT!"  441 

diet  it  ?  The  forces  against  him  are  tremendous,  and  it  is 
usually  the  pioneer  who  suffers.  I  agree  absolutely  with 
his  definition  of  faith,  I  have  it.  And  the  work  he  has 
done  already  can  never  be  undone.  The  time  is  ripe,  and 
it  is  something  that  he  has  men  like  Phil  Goodrich  behind 
him,  and  Mr.  Waring.  I'm  going  to  enlist,  and  from  now 
on  I  intend  to  get  every  man  and  woman  upon  whom  I 
have  any  influence  whatever  to  go  to  that  church.  ..." 
A  little  later  Alison,  marvelling,  left  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE 


THE  year  when  Hodder  had  gone  east  to  Bremerton  and 
Bar  Harbor,  he  had  read  in  the  train  a  magazine  article 
which  had  set  fire  to  his  imagination.  It  had  to  do  with 
the  lives  of  the  men,  the  engineers  who  dared  to  deal  with 
the  wild  and  terrible  power  of  the  western  hills,  who 
harnessed  and  conquered  roaring  rivers,  and  sent  the 
power  hundreds  of  miles  over  the  wilderness,  by  flimsy 
wires,  to  turn  the  wheels  of  industry  and  light  the  dark 
places  of  the  cities.  And,  like  all  men  who  came  into  touch 
with  elemental  mysteries,  they  had  their  moments  of  pure 
ecstasy,  gaining  a  tingling,  intenser  life  from  the  contact 
with  dynamic  things  ;  and  other  moments  when,  in  their 
struggle  for  mastery,  they  were  buffeted  about,  scorched, 
and  almost  overwhelmed. 

In  these  days  the  remembrance  of  that  article  came 
back  to  Hodder.  It  was  as  though  he,  too,  were  seeking 
to  deflect  and  guide  a  force  —  the  Force  of  forces.  He, 
too,  was  buffeted,  scorched,  and  bruised,  at  periods  scarce 
given  time  to  recover  himself  in  the  onward  rush  he  him 
self  had  started,  and  which  he  sought  to  control.  Prob 
lems  arose  which  demanded  the  quick  thinking  of 
emergency.  He,  too,  had  his  moments  of  reward,  the 
reward  of  the  man  who  is  in  touch  with  reality. 

He  lived,  from  day  to  day,  in  a  bewildering  succession 
of  encouragements  and  trials,  all  unprecedented.  If  he 
remained  at  St.  John's,  an  entire  new  organization  would 
be  necessary.  .  .  .  He  did  not  as  yet  see  it  clearly  ;  and 
in  the  meantime,  with  his  vestry  alienated,  awaiting  the 

442 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  443 

bishop's  decision,  he  could  make  no  definite  plans,  even  if 
he  had  had  the  leisure.  Wholesale  desertions  had  occurred 
in  the  guilds  arid  societies,  the  activities  of  which  had 
almost  ceased.  Little  Tornkinson,  the  second  assistant, 
had  resigned  ;  and  McCrae,  who  worked  harder  than  ever 
before,  was  already  marked,  Hodder  knew,  for  dismissal 
if  he  himself  were  defeated. 

And  then  there  was  the  ever  present  question  of  money. 
It  remained  to  be  seen  whether  a  system  of  voluntary 
offerings  were  practicable.  For  Hodder  had  made  some 
inquiries  into  the  so-called  "free  churches,"  only  to  dis 
cover  that  there  were  benefactors  behind  them,  benefactors 
the  Christianity  of  whose  lives  was  often  doubtful. 

One  morning  he  received  in  the  mail  the  long-expected 
note  from  the  bishop,  making  an  appointment  for  the  next 
day.  Hodder,  as  he  read  it  over  again,  smiled  to  himself. 
.  .  .  He  could  gather  nothing  of  the  mind  of  the  writer 
from  the  contents. 

The  piece  of  news  which  came  to  him  on  the  same  morn 
ing  swept  completely  the  contemplations  of  the  approach 
ing  interview  from  his  mind.  Sally  Grover  stopped  in  at 
the  parish  house  on  her  way  to  business. 

"  Kate  Marcy's  gone,"  she  announced,  in  her  abrupt 
fashion. 

"  Gone  !  "  he  exclaimed,  and  stared  at  her  in  dismay. 
"  Gone  where  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it,"  said  Miss  Grover.  "  I  wish  I  knew. 
I  reckon  we'd  got  into  the  habit  of  trusting  her  too  much, 
but  it  seemed  the  only  way.  She  wasn't  in  her  room  last 
night,  but  Ella  Finley  didn't  find  it  out  until  this  morning, 
and  she  ran  over  scared  to  death,  to  tell  us  about  it." 

Involuntarily  the  rector  reached  for  his  hat. 

"  I've  sent  out  word  among  our  friends  in  Dalton 
Street,"  Sally  continued.  An  earthquake  could  not  have 
disturbed  her  outer,  matter-of-fact  calmness.  But  Hod 
der  was  not  deceived  :  he  knew  that  she  was  as  profoundly 
grieved  and  discouraged  as  himself.  "  And  I've  got  old 
Gratz,  the  cabinet-maker,  on  the  job.  If  she's  in  Dalton 
Street,  he'll  find  her." 


444  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"But  what  —  ?"  Hodder  began. 

Sally  threw  up  her  hands. 

"  You  never  can  tell,  with  that  kind.  But  it  sticks  in 
my  mind  she's  done  something  foolish." 

'"Foolish?" 

Sally  twitched,  nervously. 

"  Somehow  I  don't  think  it's  a  spree  —  but  as  I  say,  you 
can't  tell.  She's  full  of  impulses.  You  remember  how 
she  frightened  us  once  before,  when  she  went  off  and 
stayed  all  night  with  the  woman  she  used  to  know  in  the 
flat  house,  when  she  heard  she  was  sick  ?  " 

Hodder  nodded. 

"You've  inquired  there?" 

"  That  woman  went  to  the  hospital,  you  know.  She 
may  be  with  another  one.  If  she  is,  Gratz  ought  to  find 
her.  .  .  .  You  know  there  was  a  time,  Mr.  Hodder, 
when  I  didn't  have  much  hope  that  we'd  pull  her  through. 
But  we  got  hold  of  her  through  her  feelings.  She'd  do 
anything  for  Mr.  Bentley  —  she'd  do  anything  for  you, 
and  the  way  she  stuck  to  that  embroidery  was  fine.  I 
don't  say  she  was  cured,  but  whenever  she'd  feel  one  of 
those  fits  coming  on  she'd  let  us  know  about  it,  and  we'd 
watch  her.  And  I  never  saw  one  of  that  kind  change  so. 
Why,  she  must  be  almost  as  good  looking  now  as  she  ever 
was." 

"  You  don't  think  she  has  done  anything  —  desperate  ?  " 
asked  Hodder,  slowly. 

Sally  comprehended. 

"  Well  —  somehow  I  don't.  She  used  to  say  if  she  ever 
got  drunk  again  she'd  never  come  back.  But  she  didn't 
have  any  money — she's  given  Mr.  Bentley  every  cent  of 
it.  And  we  didn't  have  any  warning.  She  was  as  cheer 
ful  as  could  be  yesterday  morning,  Mrs.  McQuillen  says." 

"  It  might  not  do  any  harm  to  notify  the  police,"  re 
plied  Hodder,  rising.  "  I'll  go  around  to  headquarters 
now." 

He  was  glad  of  the  excuse  for  action.  He  could  not 
have  sat  still.  And  as  he  walked  rapidly  across  Burton 
Street  he  realized  with  a  pang  how  much  his  heart  Vad 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  445 

been  set  on  Kate  Marcy's  redemption.  In  spite  of  the 
fact  that  every  moment  of  his  time  during  the  past  fort 
night  had  been  absorbed  by  the  cares,  responsibilities,  and 
trials  thrust  upon  him,  he  reproached  himself  for  not 
having  gone  oftener  to  Dalton  Street.  And  yet,  if  Mr. 
Bentley  and  Sally  Grover  had  been  unable  to  foresee  and 
prevent  this,  what  could  he  have  done  ? 

At  police  headquarters  he  got  no  news.  The  chief 
received  him  deferentially,  sympathetically,  took  down 
Kate  Marcy's  description,  went  so  far  as  to  remark, 
sagely,  that  too  much  mustn't  be  expected  of  these  women, 
and  said  he  would  notify  the  rector  if  she  were  found. 
The  chief  knew  and  admired  Mr.  Bentley,  and  declared 
he  was  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Hodder.  .  .  .  Hodder  left,  too 
preoccupied  to  draw  any  significance  from  the  nature  of 
his  welcome.  He  went  at  once  to  Mr.  Bentley's. 

The  old  gentleman  was  inclined  to  be  hopeful,  to  take 
Sally  Grover's  view  of  the  matter.  He  trusted,  he  said, 
Sally's  instinct.  And  Hodder  came  away  less  uneasy, 
not  a  little  comforted  by  a  communion  which  never  failed 
to  fortify  him,  to  make  him  marvel  at  the  calmness  of 
that  world  in  which  his  friend  lived,  a  calmness  from 
which  no  vicarious  sorrow  was  excluded.  And  before 
Hodder  left,  Mr.  Bentley  had  drawn  from  him  some 
account  of  the  more  recent  complexities  at  the  church. 
The  very  pressure  of  his  hand  seemed  to  impart  courage. 

"  You  won't  stay  and  have  dinner  with  me  ?  " 

The  rector  regretfully  declined. 

"  I  hear  the  bishop  has  returned,"  said  Mr.  Bentley, 
smiling. 

Hodder  was  surprised.  He  had  never  heard  Mr. 
Bentley  speak  of  the  bishop.  Of  course  he  must  know 
him. 

"  I  have  my  talk  with  him  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Bentley  said  nothing,  but  pressed  his  hand 
again.  .  .  . 

On  Tower  Street,  from  the  direction  of  the  church,  he 
beheld  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman  approaching  him, 


446  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

absorbed  in  conversation.  Even  at  a  distance  both 
seemed  familiar,  and  presently  he  identified  the  lithe  and 
dainty  figure  in  the  blue  dress  as  that  of  the  daughter 
of  his  vestryman,  Francis  Ferguson.  Presently  she  turned 
her  face,  alight  with  animation,  from  her  companion,  and 
recognized  him. 

"  It's  Mr.  Hodder  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  was  suddenly 
overtaken  with  a  crimson  shyness.  The  young  man 
seemed  equally  embarrassed  as  they  stood  facing  the 
rector. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  remember  me,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he 
said.  "I  met  you  at  Mr.  Ferguson's  last  spring." 

Then  it  came  to  him.  This  was  the  young  man  who 
had  made  the  faux  pas  which  had  caused  Mrs.  Ferguson 
so  much  consternation,  and  who  had  so  manfully  apolo 
gized  afterwards.  His  puzzled  expression  relaxed  into  a 
smile,  and  he  took  the  young  man's  hand. 

"  I  was  going  to  write  to  you,"  said  Nan,  as  she  looked 
up  at  the  rector  from  under  the  wide  brim  of  her  hat. 
"  Our  engagement  is  to  be  announced  Wednesday." 

Hodder  congratulated  them.  There  was  a  brief  silence, 
when  Nan  said  tremulously : 

"  We're  coming  to  St.  John's  !  " 

"  I'm  very  glad,"  Hodder  replied,  gravely.  It  was  one 
of  those  compensating  moments,  for  him,  when  his 
tribulations  vanished  ;  and  the  tributes  of  the  younger 
generation  were  those  to  which  his  heart  most  freely 
responded.  But  the  situation,  in  view  of  the  attitude  of 
Francis  Ferguson,  was  too  delicate  to  be  dwelt  upon. 

"I  came  to  hear  you  last  Sunday,  Mr.  Hodder,"  the 
young  man  volunteered,  with  that  mixture  of  awkward 
ness  and  straightforwardness  which  often  characterize  his 
sex  and  age  in  referring  to  such  matters.  "  And  I  had 
an  idea  of  writing  you,  too,  to  tell  you  how  much  I  liked 
what  you  said.  But  I  know  you  must  have  had  many 
letters.  You've  made  me  think." 

He  flushed,  but  met  the  rector's  eye.  Nan  stood 
regarding  him  with  pride. 

"You've  made  me  think,  too,"  she  added.     "And  we 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  447 

intend  to  pitch  in  and  help  you,  if  we  can  be  of  any 
use." 

He  parted  from  them,  wondering.  And  it  was  not 
until  he  had  reached  the  parish  house  that  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  was  as  yet  unenlightened  as  to  the  young 
man's  name.  .  .  . 

His  second  reflection  brought  back  to  his  mind  Kate 
Marcy,  for  it  was  with  a  portion  of  Nan  Ferguson's 
generous  check  that  her  board  had  been  paid.  And  he 
recalled  the  girl's  hope,  as  she  had  given  it  to  him,  that 
he  would  find  some  one  in  Dalton  Street  to  help.  .  .  . 

n 

There  might,  to  the  mundane  eye,  have  been  an  ele 
ment  of  the  ridiculous  in  the  spectacle  of  the  rector  of  St. 
John's  counting  his  gains,  since  he  had  chosen  —  with 
every  indication  of  insanity  —  to  bring  the  pillars  of  his 
career  crashing  down  on  his  own  head.  By  no  means  the 
least,  however,  of  the  treasures  flung  into  his  lap  was  the 
tie  which  now  bound  him  to  the  Philip  Goodriches,  which 
otherwise  would  never  have  been  possible.  And  as  he 
made  his  way  thither  on  this  particular  evening,  a  renewed 
sense  came  upon  him  of  his  emancipation  from  the  dreary, 
useless  hours  he  had  been  wont  to  spend  at  other  dinner 
tables.  That  existence  appeared  to  him  now  as  the 
glittering,  feverish  unreality  of  a  nightmare  filled  with 
restless  women  and  tired  men  who  drank  champagne, 
thus  gradually  achieving  —  by  the  time  cigars  were 
reached  —  an  artificial  vivacity.  The  caprice  and  super 
ficiality  of  the  one  sex,  the  inability  to  dwell  upon  or 
even  penetrate  a  serious  subject,  the  blindness  to  what 
was  going  on  around  them ;  the  materialism,  the  money 
standard  of  both,  were  nauseating  in  the  retrospect. 

How,  indeed,  had  life  once  appeared  so  distorted  to 
him,  a  professed  servant  of  humanity,  as  to  lead  him  in 
the  name  of  duty  into  that  galley? 

Such  was  the  burden  of  his  thought  when  the  homelike 
front  of  the  Goodrich  house  greeted  him  in  the  darkness, 


448  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

its  unshrouded  windows  gleaming  with  friendly  light. 
As  the  door  opened,  the  merry  sound  of  children's 
laughter  floated  down  the  stairs,  and  it  seemed  to  Hodder 
as  though  a  curse  had  been  lifted.  .  .  .  The  lintel  of 
this  house  had  been  marked  for  salvation,  the  scourge  had 
passed  it  by :  the  scourge  of  social  striving  which  lay  like 
a  blight  on  a  free  people. 

Within,  the  note  of  gentility,  of  that  instinctive  good 
taste  to  which  many  greater  mansions  aspired  in  vain,  was 
sustained.  The  furniture,  the  pictures,  the  walls  and 
carpets  were  true  expressions  of  the  individuality  of 
master  and  mistress,  of  the  unity  of  the  life  lived  together; 
and  the  rector  smiled  as  he  detected,  in  a  corner  of  the 
hall,  a  sturdy  but  diminutive  hobby-horse  —  here  the  final, 
harmonious  touch. 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  scuffle,  treble  shrieks  of 
ecstasy  from  above,  and  Eleanor  Goodrich  came  out  to 
welcome  him. 

"  It's  Phil,"  she  told  him  in  laughing  despair,  "  he 
upsets  all  my  discipline,  and  gets  them  so  excited  they 
don't  go  to  sleep  for  hours.  ..." 

Seated  in  front  of  the  fire  in  the  drawing-room,  he 
found  Alison  Parr. 

Her  coolness,  her  radiancy,  her  complete  acceptance 
of  the  situation,  all  this  and  more  he  felt  from  the 
moment  he  touched  her  hand  and  looked  into  her  face. 
And  never  had  she  so  distinctly  represented  to  him  the 
mysterious  essence  of  fate.  Why  she  should  have  made 
the  fourth  at  this  intimate  gathering,  and  whether  or  not 
she  was  or  had  been  an  especial  friend  of  Eleanor  Good 
rich  he  did  not  know.  There  was  no  explanation.  .  .  . 

A  bowl  of  superb  chrysanthemums  occupied  the  centre 
of  the  table.  Eleanor  lifted  them  off  and  placed  them 
or.  the  sideboard. 

"  I've  got  used  to  looking  at  Phil,"  she  explained,  "  and 
craning  is  so  painful." 

The  effect  at  first  was  to  increase  the  intensity  of  the 
intimacy.  There  was  no  reason  —  he  told  himself —  why 
Alison's  self-possession  should  have  been  disturbed;  and 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  449 

as  he  glanced  at  her  from  time  to  time  he  perceived  that 
it  was  not.  So  completely  was  she  mistress  of  herself 
that  presently  he  felt  a  certain  faint  resentment  rising 
within  him, — yet  he  asked  himself  why  she  should  not 
have  been.  It  was  curious  that  his  imagination  would 
not  rise,  now,  to  a  realization  of  that  intercourse  on  which, 
at  times,  his  fancy  had  dwelt  with  such  vividness.  The 
very  interest,  the  eagerness  with  which  she  took  part 
in  their  discussions  seemed  to  him  in  the  nature  of  an 
emphatic  repudiation  of  any  ties  to  him  which  might  have 
been  binding. 

All  this  was  only,  on  Hodder's  part,  to  be  aware  of 
the  startling  discovery  as  to  how  strong  his  sense  of 
possession  had  been,  and  how  irrational,  how  unwarranted. 
For  he  had  believed  himself,  as  regarding  her,  to  have 
made  the  supreme  renunciation  of  his  life.  And  the  very 
fact  that  he  had  not  consulted,  could  not  consult  her 
feelings  and  her  attitude  made  that  renunciation  no  less 
difficult.  All  effort,  all  attempt  at  achievement  of  the 
only  woman  for  whom  he  had  ever  felt  the  sublime 
harmony  of  desire — the  harmony  of  the  mind  and  the 
flesh  —  was  cut  off. 

To  be  here,  facing  her  again  in  such  close  proximity, 
was  at  once  a  pleasure  and  a  torture.  And  gradually  he 
found  himself  yielding  to  the  pleasure,  to  the  illusion  of 
permanency  created  by  her  presence.  And,  when  all  was 
said,  he  had  as  much  to  be  grateful  for  as  he  could  reason 
ably  have  wished;  yes,  and  more.  The  bond  (there  was  a 
bond,  after  all!)  which  united  them  was  unbreakable. 
They  had  forged  it  together.  The  future  would  take  care 
of  itself. 

The  range  of  the  conversation  upon  which  they  at  length 
embarked  was  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of  a  relationship 
which  now  united  four  persons  who,  six  months  before, 
would  have  believed  themselves  to  have  had  nothing  in 
common.  And  it  was  characteristic  of  the  new  interest 
that  it  transcended  the  limits  of  the  parish  of  St.  John's, 
touched  upon  the  greater  affairs  to  which  that  parish  — 
if  their  protest  prevailed  —  would  now  be  dedicated.  Not 
2o 


450  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

that  the  church  was  at  once  mentioned ;  but  subtly  im< 
plied  as  now  enlisted,  —  and  emancipated  henceforth  from 
all  ecclesiastical  narrowness.  .  .  .  The  amazing  thing  by 
which  Hodder  was  suddenly  struck  was  the  naturalness 
with  which  Alison  seemed  to  fit  into  the  new  scheme. 
It  was  as  though  she  intended  to  remain  there,  and  had 
abandoned  all  intention  of  returning  to  the  life  which 
apparently  she  had  once  permanently  and  definitely 
chosen.  .  .  . 

Bedloe  Hubbell's  campaign  was  another  topic.  And 
Phil  had  observed,  with  the  earnestness  which  marked  his 
more  serious  statements,  that  it  wouldn't  surprise  him  if 
young  Carter,  Hubbell's  candidate  for  mayor,  overturned 
that  autumn  the  Beatty  machine. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so!"  Alison  exclaimed  with  ex 
hilaration. 

"  They're  frightened  and  out  of  breath,"  said  Phil,  "  they 
had  no  idea  that  Bedloe  would  stick  after  they  had  licked 
him  in  three  campaigns.  Two  years  ago  they  tried  to 
buy  him  off  by  offering  to  send  him  to  the  Senate,  and 
Wallis  Plimpton  has  never  got  through  his  head  to  this 
day  why  he  refused." 

Mr.  Plimpton's  head,  Eleanor  declared  dryly,  was  im 
pervious  to  a  certain  kind  of  idea. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  know,  Mr.  Hodder,  what  an  admirer 
Mr.  Hubbell  is  of  yours?"  Alison  asked.  "  He  is  most 
anxious  to  have  a  talk  with  you." 

Hodder  did  not  know. 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  enthusiastically,  to  the  rector,  "  that's 
the  best  tribute  you've  had  yet.  I  can't  say  that  Bedloe 
was  a  more  unregenerate  heathen  than  I  was,  but  he  was 
pretty  bad." 

This  led  them,  all  save  Hodder,  into  comments  on  the 
character  of  the  congregation  the  Sunday  before,  in  the 
midst  of  which  the  rector  was  called  away  to  the  telephone. 
Sally  Grover  had  promised  to  let  him  know  whether  or 
not  they  had  found  Kate  Marcy,  and  his  face  was  grave 
when  he  returned.  .  .  .  He  was  still  preoccupied,  an 
hour  later,  when  Alison  arose  to  go. 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  451 

"  But  your  carriage  isn't  here,"  said  Phil,  going  to  the 
window. 
"  Oh,  I  preferred  to  walk,"  she  told  him,  "it  isn't  far." 

in 

A  blood-red  October  moon  shed  the  fulness  of  its  light 
on  the  silent  houses,  and  the  trees,  still  clinging  to  leaf, 
cast  black  shadows  across  the  lawns  and  deserted  streets. 
The  very  echoes  of  their  footsteps  on  the  pavement  seemed 
to  enhance  the  unreality  of  their  surroundings.  Some 
of  the  residences  were  already  closed  for  the  night,  al 
though  the  hour  was  not  late,  and  the  glow  behind  the 
blinds  of  the  others  was  nullified  by  the  radiancy  from 
above.  To  Hodder,  the  sense  of  their  isolation  had  never 
been  more  complete. 

Alison,  while  repudiating  the  notion  that  an  escort 
were  needed  in  a  neighbourhood  of  such  propriety  and 
peace,  had  not  refused  his  offer  to  accompany  her.  And 
Hodder  felt  instinctively,  as  he  took  his  place  beside  her, 
a  sense  of  climax.  This  situation,  like  those  of  the  past, 
was  not  of  his  own  making.  It  was  here,  confronting 
him,  and  a  certain  inevitable  intoxication  at  being  once 
more  alone  with  her  prevented  him  from  forming  any 
policy  with  which  to  deal  with  it.  He  might  either  trust 
himself,  or  else  he  might  not.  And  as  she  said,  the  dis 
tance  was  not  great.  But  he  could  not  help  wondering, 
during  those  first  moments  of  silence,  whether  she  com 
prehended  the  strength  of  the  temptation  to  which  she 
subjected  him.  .  .  . 

The  night  was  warm.  She  wore  a  coat,  which  was  open, 
and  from  time  to  time  he  caught  the  gleam  of  the  moon 
light  on  the  knotted  pearls  at  her  throat.  Over  her  head 
she  had  flung,  mantilla-like,  a  black  lace  scarf,  the  effect 
of  which  was,  in  the  soft  luminosity  encircling  her,  to  add 
to  the  quality  of  mystery  never  exhausted.  If  by  ac 
quiescing  in  his  company  she  had  owned  to  a  tie  between 
them,  the  lace  shawl  falling  over  the  coils  of  her  dark 
hair  and  framing  in  its  folds  her  face,  had  somehow  made 


452  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

her  once  more  a  stranger.  Nor  was  it  until  she  presently 
looked  up  into  his  face  with  a  smile  that  this  impression 
was,  if  not  at  once  wholly  dissipated,  at  least  contradicted. 

Her  question,  indeed,  was  intimate. 

"  Why  did  you  come  with  me  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  he  repeated,  taken  aback. 

"Yes.  I'm  sure  you  have  something  you  wish  to  do, 
something  which  particularly  worries  you." 

"No,"  he  answered,  appraising  her  intuition  of  him, 
"  there  is  nothing  I  can  do,  to-night.  A  young  woman 
in  whom  Mr.  Bentley  is  interested,  in  whom  I  am  inter 
ested,  has  disappeared.  But  we  have  taken  all  the  steps 
possible  towards  finding  her." 

"  It  was  nothing  —  more  serious,  then  ?  That,  of  course, 
is  serious  enough.  Nothing,  I  mean,  directly  affecting 
your  prospects  of  remaining —  where  you  are?" 

"  No,"  he  answered.  He  rejoiced  fiercely  that  she  should 
have  asked  him.  The  question  was  not  bold,  but  a  natural 
resumption  of  the  old  footing.  "Not  that  I  mean  to  imply," 
he  added,  returning  her  smile,  "  that  those  '  prospects ' 
are  in  any  way  improved." 

"Are  they  any  worse?"  she  said. 

"  I  see  the  bishop  to-morrow.  I  have  no  idea  what 
position  he  will  take.  But  even  if  he  should  decide  not 
to  recommend  me  for  trial  many  difficult  problems  still 
remain  to  be  solved." 

"  I  know.  It's  fine,"  she  continued,  after  a  moment, 
"  the  way  you  are  going  ahead  as  if  there  were  no  ques 
tion  of  your  not  remaining,  and  getting  all  those  people 
into  the  church  and  influencing  them  as  you  did  when  they 
had  come  for  all  sorts  of  reasons.  Do  you  remember,  the 
iirst  time  I  met  you,  I  told  you  I  could  not  think  of  you 
as  a  clergyman.  I  cannot  now  —  less  than  ever." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  me  as?"  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  considered.  "  You  are  unlike  any 
person  I  have  ever  known.  It  is  curious  that  I  cannot 
now  even  think  of  St.  John's  as  a  church.  You  have 
transformed  it  into  something  that  seems  new.  I'm  afraid 
I  can't  describe  what  I  mean,  but  you  have  opened  it  up, 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  453 

let  in  the  fresh  air,  rid  it  of  the  musty  and  deadening 
atmosphere  which  I  have  always  associated  with  churches. 
I  wanted  to  see  you,  before  I  went  away,"  she  went  on 
steadily,  "and  when  Eleanor  mentioned  that  you  were 
coming  to  her  house  to-night,  I  asked  her  to  invite  me. 
Do  you  think  me  shameless?" 

The  emphasis  of  his  gesture  was  sufficient.  He  could 
not  trust  himself  to  speak. 

"  Writing  seemed  so  unsatisfactory,  after  what  you  had 
done  for  me,  and  I  never  can  express  myself  in  writing. 
I  seem  to  congeal." 

"  After  what  I  have  done  for  you ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  What  can  I  have  done?" 

"  You  have  done  more  than  you  know,"  she  answered, 
in  a  low  voice.  "  More,  I  think,  than  I  know.  How  are 
such  things  to  be  measured,  put  into  words?  You  have 
effected  some  change  in  me  which  defies  analysis,  a  change 
of  attitude,  —  to  attempt  to  dogmatize  it  would  ruin  it. 
I  prefer  to  leave  it  undefined  —  not  even  to  call  it  an  ac 
quisition  of  faith.  I  have  faith,"  she  said,  simply,  "in 
what  you  have  become,  and  which  has  made  you  dare, 
superbly,  to  cast  everything  away.  .  .  .  It  is  that,  more 
than  anything  you  have  said.  What  you  are." 

For  the  instant  he  lost  control  of  himself. 

"  What  you  are,"  he  replied.  "  Do  you  realize  —  can 
you  ever  realize  what  your  faith  in  me  has  been  to  me  ?  " 

She  appeared  to  ignore  this. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  you  have  not  made  many 
things  clear,  which  once  were  obscure,  as  I  wrote  you. 
You  have  convinced  me  that  true  belief,  for  instance,  is 
the  hardest  thing  in  the  world,  the  denial  of  practically  all 
these  people,  who  profess  to  believe,  represent.  The  major 
ity  of  them  insist  that  humanity  is  not  to  be  trusted.  ..." 

They  had  reached,  in  an  incredibly  brief  time,  the 
corner  of  Park  Street. 

"When  are  you  leaving?"  he  asked,  in  a  voice  that 
sounded  harsh  in  his  own  ears. 

"Come!"  she  said  gently,  "I'm  not  going  in  yet,  for 
a  while." 


454  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

The  Park  lay  before  them,  an  empty  garden  filled  with 
checquered  light  and  shadows  under  the  moon.  He  fol 
lowed  her  across  the  gravel,  glistening  with  dew,  past  the 
statue  of  the  mute  statesman  with  arm  upraised,  into 
pastoral  stretches  —  a  delectable  country  which  was  theirs 
alone.  He  did  not  take  it  in,  save  as  one  expression  of 
the  breathing  woman  at  his  side.  He  was  but  partly  con 
scious  of  a  direction  he  had  not  chosen.  His  blood 
throbbed  violently,  and  a  feeling  of  actual  physical  faint- 
ness  was  upon  him.  He  was  being  led,  helplessly,  all 
volition  gone,  and  the  very  idea  of  resistance  became 
chimerical.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  seat  under  a  tree,  beside  a  still  lake  bur 
nished  by  the  moon.  It  seemed  as  though  he  could  not 
bear  the  current  of  her  touch,  and  yet  the  thought  of  its 
removal  were  less  bearable  .  .  .  For  she  had  put  her 
own  hand  out,  not  shyly,  but  with  a  movement  so  fraught 
with  grace,  so  natural  that  it  was  but  the  crowning 
bestowal. 

"  Alison  !  "  he  cried,  "  I  can't  ask  it  of  you.  I  have'  no 
right." 

"  You're  not  asking  it,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  I  who 
am  asking  it." 

"  But  I  have  no  future  —  I  may  be  an  outcast  to-morrow. 
I  have  nothing  to  offer  you."  He  spoke  more  firmly  now, 
more  commandingly. 

"  Don't  you  see,  dear,  that  it  is  just  because  your  future 
is  obscure  that  I  can  do  this?  You  never  would  have 
done  it,  I  know,  —  and  I  couldn't  face  that.  Don't  you 
understand  that  Tarn  demanding  the  great  sacrifice?" 

"  Sacrifice !  "  he  repeated.  His  fingers  turned,  and 
closed  convulsively  on  hers. 

"  Yes,  sacrifice,"  she  said  gently.  "  Isn't  it  the  braver- 
thing?" 

Still  he  failed  to  catch  her  meaning. 

"  Braver,"  she  explained,  with  her  wonderful  courage, 
"  braver  if  I  love  you,  if  I  need  you,  if  I  cannot  do  with 
out  you." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  crushing  her  to  him  in  his 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  455 

strength,  in  one  ineffable  brief  moment  finding  her  lips, 
inhaling  the  faint  perfume  of  her  smooth  skin.  Her 
lithe  figure  lay  passively  against  him,  in  marvellous,  un 
believable  surrender. 

"I  see  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  at  length,  "I  should 
have  been  a  coward.  But  I  could  not  be  sure  that  you 
loved  me." 

So  near  was  her  face  that  he  could  detect,  even  under 
the  obscurity  of  the  branches,  a  smile. 

"  And  so  I  was  reduced  to  this  !  I  threw  my  pride  to 
the  winds,"  she  whispered.  "  But  I  don't  care.  I  was 
determined,  selfishly,  to  take  happiness." 

"  And  to  give  it,"  he  added,  bending  down  to  her.  The 
supreme  quality  of  its  essence  was  still  to  be  doubted,  a 
bright  star-dust  which  dazzled  him,  to  evaporate  before 
his  waking  eyes.  And,  try  as  he  would,  he  could  not 
realize  to  the  full  depth  the  joy  of  contact  with  a  being 
whom,  by  discipline,  he  had  trained  his  mind  to  look 
upon  as  the  unattainable.  They  had  spoken  of  the  future, 
yet  in  these  moments  any  consideration  of  it  was  blotted 
out.  ...  It  was  only  by  degrees  that  he  collected  him 
self  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  return  to  it.  ...  Alison 
took  up  the  thread. 

"  Surely,"  she  said,  "  sacrifice  is  useless  unless  it  means 
something,  unless  it  be  a  realization.  It  must  be  discrimi 
nating.  And  we  should  both  of  us  have  remained  incom 
plete  if  we  had  not  taken  —  this.  You  would  always,  I 
think,  have  been  the  one  man  for  me,  —  but  we  should 
have  lost  touch."  He  felt  her  tremble.  "  And  I  needed 
you.  I  have  needed  you  all  my  life — one  in  whom  I 
might  have  absolute  faith.  That  is  my  faith,  of  which  I 
could  not  tell  you  a  while  ago.  Is  it  — sacrilegious?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him.  He  shook  his  head,  thinking  of 
his  own.  It  seemed  the  very  distillation  of  the  divine. 

"  All  my  life,"  she  went  on,  "  I  have  been  waiting  for 
the  one  who  would  risk  everything.  Oh,  if  you  had  fal 
tered  the  least  little  bit,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have 
done.  That  would  have  destroyed  what  was  left  of  me, 
put  out,  I  think,  the  flickering  fire  that  remained,  instead 


456  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

of  fanning  it  into  flame.  You  cannot  know  how  I  watched 
you,  how  I  prayed  !  I  think  it  was  prayer  —  I  am  sure 
it  was.  And  it  was  because  you  did  not  falter,  because 
you  risked  all,  that  you  gained  me.  You  have  gained 
only  what  you  yourself  made,  more  than  I  ever  was,  more 
than  I  ever  expected  to  be." 

"  Alison  !  "  he  remonstrated,  "  you  mustn't  say  that." 

She  straightened  up  and  gazed  at  him,  taking  one  of 
his  hands  in  her  lithe  fingers. 

"Oh,  but  I  must!  It  is  the  truth.  I  felt  that  you 
cared  —  women  are  surer  in  such  matters  than  men.  I 
must  conceal  nothing  from  you  —  nothing  of  my  crafti 
ness.  Women  are  crafty,  you  know.  And  suppose  you 
fail?  Ah,  I  do  not  mean  failure  —  you  cannot  fail,  now. 
You  have  put  yourself  forever  beyond  failure.  But  what 
I  mean  is,  suppose  you  were  compelled  to  leave  St.  John's, 
and  I  came  to  you  then  as  I  have  come  now,  and  begged 
to  take  my  place  beside  you  ?  I  was  afraid  to  risk  it.  I 
was  afraid  you  would  not  take  me,  even  now,  to-night. 
Do  you  realize  how  austere  you  are  at  times,  how  you 
have  frightened  me  ?  " 

"  That  I  should  ever  have  done  that !  "  he  said. 

"  When  I  looked  at  you  in  the  pulpit  you  seemed  so  far 
from  me,  I  could  scarcely  bear  it.  As  if  I  had  no  share 
in  you,  as  if  you  had  already  gone  to  a  place  beyond, 
where  I  could  not  go,  where  I  never  could.  Oh,  you 
will  take  me  with  you,  now,  —  you  won't  leave  me 
behind  !  " 

To  this  cry  every  fibre  of  his  soul  responded.  He  had 
thought  himself,  in  these  minutes,  to  have  known  all  feel 
ings,  all  thrills,  but  now,  as  he  gathered  her  to  him  again, 
he  was  to  know  still  another,  the  most  exquisite  of  all. 
That  it  was  conferred  upon  him  to  give  this  woman  pro 
tection,  to  shield  and  lift  her,  inspire  her  as  she  inspired 
him  —  this  consciousness  was  the  most  exquisite  of  all, 
transcending  all  conception  of  the  love  of  woman.  And 
the  very  fulness  of  her  was  beyond  him.  A  lifetime 
were  insufficient  to  exhaust  her.  ... 

"  I    wanted    to    come    to  you  now,  John.      I   want  to 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  457 

share  your  failure,  if  it  comes  —  all  your  failures.  Be 
cause  they  will  be  victories  —  don't  you  see  ?  I  have 
never  been  able  to  achieve  that  kind  of  victory  —  real 
victory,  by  myself.  I  have  always  succumbed,  taken  the 
baser,  the  easier  thing."  Her  cheek  was  wet.  "  I  wasn't 
strong  enough,  by  myself,  and  I  never  knew  the  stronger 
one.  .  .  . 

"  See  what  my  trust  in  you  has  been !  I  knew  that 
you  would  not  refuse  me  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
world  may  misunderstand,  may  sneer  at  your  taking  me. 
I  knew  that  you  were  big  enough  even  for  that,  when  you 
understood  it,  coming  from  me.  I  wanted  to  be  with  you, 
now,  that  we  might  fight  it  out  together." 

"  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  so  priceless  a  thing  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  smiled  at  him  again,  her  lip  trembling. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  priceless,  I'm  only  real,  I'm  only  human 

—  human  and  tired.     You  are  so  strong,  you  can't  know 
how  tired.     Have  you  any  idea  why  I  came  out  here,  this 
summer?     It  was  because  I  was   desperate — because    I 
had  almost  decided  to  marry  some  one  else." 

She  felt  him  start. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  it,"  he  said. 

"  Were  you  ?  Did  you  think,  did  you  wonder  a  little 
about  me  ?  '?  There  was  a  vibrant  note  of  triumph  to 
which  he  reacted.  She  drew  away  from  him  a  little. 
"  Perhaps,  when  you  know  how  sordid  my  life  has  been, 
you  won't  want  me." 

"  Is  that  your  faith,  Alison  ? "  he  demanded.  "  God 
forbid  I  You  have  come  to  a  man  who  also  has  confes 
sions  to  make." 

"  Oh,  I  am  glad.  I  want  to  know  all  of  you  —  all,  do 
you  understand?  That  will  bring  us  even  closer  together. 
And  it  was  one  thing  I  felt  about  you  in  the  beginning, 
that  day  in  the  garden,  that  you  had  had  much  to  conquer 

—  more  than  most  men.     It  was  a  part  of  your  force  and  of 
your  knowledge  of  life.     You  were  not  a  sexless  ascetic  who 
preached  a  mere  neutral  goodness.     Does  that  shock  you?  " 

He  smiled  in  turn. 


458  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

"  I  went  away  from  here,  as  I  once  told  you,  full  of  a 
high  resolution  not  to  trail  the  honour  of  my  art  —  if  I 
achieved  art  —  in  the  dust.  But  I  have  not  only  trailed 
my  art — I  trailed  myself.  In  New  York  I  became  con 
taminated,  —  the  poison  of  the  place,  of  the  people  with 
whom  I  came  in  contact,  got  into  my  blood.  Little  by 
little  I  yielded  —  I  wanted  so  to  succeed,  to  be  able  to  con 
found  all  those  who  had  doubted  and  ridiculed  me  !  I 
wasn't  content  to  wait  to  deny  myself  for  the  ideal. 
Success  was  in  the  air.  That  was  the  poison,  and  I  only 
began  to  realize  it  after  it  was  too  late. 

"  Please  don't  think  I  am  asking  pity  —  I  feel  that  you 
must  know.  From  the  very  first  my  success  —  which  was 
really  failure  —  began  to  come  in  the  wrong  way.  As 
my  father's  daughter  I  could  not  be  obscure.  I  was 
sought  out,  I  was  what  was  called  picturesque,  I  suppose. 
The  women  petted  me,  although  some  of  them  hated  me, 
and  I  had  a  fascination  for  a  certain  kind  of  men  —  the 
wrong  kind.  1  began  going  to  dinners,  house  parties,  to 
recognize  that  advantages  came  that  way.  ...  It  seemed 
quite  natural.  It  was  what  many  others  of  my  profession 
tried  to  do,  and  they  envied  me  my  opportunities. 

"  I  ought  to  say,  in  justice  to  myself,  that  I  was  not  in 
the  least  cynical  about  it.  I  believed  I  was  clinging  to 
the  ideal  of  art,  and  that  all  I  wanted  was  a  chance.  And 
the  people  I  went  with  had  the  same  characteristics,  only 
intensified,  as  those  I  had  known  here.  Of  course  I  was 
actually  no  better  than  the  women  who  were  striving 
frivolously  to  get  away  from  themselves,  and  the  men  who 
were  fighting  to  get  money.  Only  I  didn't  know  it. 

"  Well,  my  chance  came  at  last.  I  had  done  several 
little  things,  when  an  elderly  man  who  is  tremendously 
rich,  whose  name  you  would  recognize  if  I  mentioned  it, 
gave  me  an  order.  For  weeks,  nearly  every  day,  he  came 
to  my  studio  for  tea,  to  talk  over  the  plans.  I  was  really 
unsophisticated  then — but  I  can  see  now  —  well,  that  the 
garden  was  a  secondary  consideration.  .  .  .  And  the 
fact  that  I  did  it  for  him  gave  me  a  standing  I  should  not 
otherwise  have  had.  .  .  .  Oh,  it  is  sickening  to  look 


THE   CUKKENT   OF   LIFE  459 

back  upon,  to  think  what  an  idiot  I  was  in  how  little  I 
saw.  .  .  . 

"  That  garden  launched  me,  and  I  began  to  have  more 
work  than  I  could  do.  I  was  conscientious  about  it.  I 
tried  to  make  every  garden  better  than  the  last.  But  I 
was  a  young  woman,  unconventionally  living  alone,  and 
by  degrees  the  handicap  of  my  sex  was  brought  home  to 
me.  I  did  not  feel  the  pressure  at  first,  and  then  —  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  —  it  had  in  it  an  element  of  excitement,  a 
sense  of  power.  The  poison  was  at  work.  I  was  amused. 
I  thought  I  could  carry  it  through,  that  the  world  had 
advanced  sufficiently  for  a  woman  to  do  anything  if  she 
only  had  the  courage.  And  I  believed  I  possessed  a  true 
broadness  of  view,  and  could  impress  it,  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned,  on  others.  .  .  . 

"  As  I  look  back  upon  it  all,  I  believe  my  reputation  for 
coldness  saved  me,  yet  it  was  that  very  reputation  which 
increased  the  pressure,  and  sometimes  I  was  fairly  driven 
into  a  corner.  It  seemed  to  madden  some  men  —  and  the 
disillusionments  began  to  come.  Of  course  it  was  my 
fault  —  I  don't  pretend  to  say  it  wasn't.  There  were 
many  whom,  instinctively,  I  was  on  my  guard  against,  but 
some  I  thought  really  nice,  whom  I  trusted,  revealed  a 
side  I  had  not  suspected.  That  was  the  terrible  thing  ! 
And  yet  I  held  to  my  ideal,  tattered  as  it  was.  ..." 

Alison  was  silent  a  moment,  still  clinging  to  his  hand, 
and  when  she  spoke  again  it  was  with  a  tremor  of  agitation. 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell  you  this,  but  I  wish  you  to  know. 
At  last  I  met  a  man,  comparatively  young,  who  was 
making  his  own  way  in  New  York,  achieving  a  reputation 
as  a  lawyer.  Shall  I  tell  you  that  I  fell  in  love  with  him  ? 
He  seemed  to  bring  a  new  freshness  into  my  life  when  I 
was  beginning  to  feel  the  staleness  of  it.  Not  that  I 
surrendered  at  once,  but  the  reservations  of  which 
I  was  conscious  at  the  first  gradually  disappeared  —  or 
rather  I  ignored  them.  He  had  charm,  a  magnificent  self- 
confidence,  but  I  think  the  liberality  of  the  opinions  he 
expressed,  in  regard  to  women,  most  appealed  to  me.  I 
was  weak  on  that  side,  and  I  have  often  wondered 


460  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

whether  he  knew  it.  I  believed  him  incapable  of  a  great 
refusal. 

"  He  agreed,  if  I  consented  to  marry  him,  that  I  should 
have  my  freedom  —  freedom  to  live  in  my  own  life  and  to 
carry  on  my  profession.  Fortunately,  the  engagement 
was  never  announced,  never  even  suspected.  One  day  he 
hinted  that  I  should  return  to  my  father  for  a  month  or 
two  before  the  wedding.  .  .  .  The  manner  in  which  he 
said  it  suddenly  turned  me  cold.  Oh,"  Alison  exclaimed, 
"  I  was  quite  willing  to  go  back,  to  pay  my  father  a  visit, 
as  I  had  done  nearly  every  year,  but  —  how  can  I  tell 
you  ?  —  he  could  not  believe  that  I  had  definitely  given 
up  —  my  father's  money.  .  .  . 

"  I  sat  still  and  looked  at  him,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  frozen, 
turned  to  stone.  And  after  a  long  while,  since  I  would 
not  speak  to  him,  he  went  out.  .  .  .  Three  months  later 
he  came  back  and  said  that  I  had  misunderstood  him, 
that  he  couldn't  live  without  me.  I  sent  him  away.  .  .  . 
Only  the  other  day  he  married  Amy  Grant,  one  of  my 
friends.  .  .  . 

"  Well,  after  that,  I  was  tired  —  so  tired  !  Everything 
seemed  to  go  out  of  life.  It  wasn't  that  I  loved  him  any 
longer,  —  all  had  been  crushed.  But  the  illusion  was 
gone,  and  I  saw  myself  as  I  was.  And  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  felt  defenceless,  helpless.  I  wanted  refuge- 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  Jennings  Howe  ?  " 

"  The  architect  ?  " 

Alison  nodded.  "  Of  course  you  must  have  —  he  is 
so  well  known.  He  has  been  a  widower  for  several  years. 
He  liked  my  work,  saw  its  defects,  and  was  always  frank 
about  them,  and  I  designed  a  good  many  gardens  in 
connection  with  his  houses.  He  himself  is  above  all 
things  an  artist,  and  he  fell  into  the  habit  of  coming  to  my 
studio  and  giving  me  friendly  advice,  in  the  nicest  way. 
He  seemed  to  understand  that  I  was  going  through  some 
sort  of  a  crisis.  He  called  it  c  too  much  society.'  And 
then,  without  any  warning,  he  asked  me  to  marry  him. 

"  That  is  why  I  came  out  here  —  to  think  it  over.  I 
didn't  love  him,  and  I  told  him  so,  but  I  respected  him. 


THE   CUEEENT   OF   LIFE  461 

He  never  compromised  in  his  art,  and  I  have  known  him 
over  and  over  to  refuse  houses  because  certain  conditions 
were  stipulated.  To  marry  him  was  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  defeat.  I  realized  that.  But  I  had  come  to  the 
extremity  where  I  wanted  peace  —  peace  and  protection. 
I  wanted  to  put  myself  irrevocably  beyond  the  old  life, 
which  simply  could  not  have  gone  on,  and  I  saw  myself 
in  the  advancing  years  becoming  tawdry  and  worn,  losing 
little  by  little  what  I  had  gained  at  a  price. 

"  So  I  came  here  —  to  reflect,  to  see,  as  it  were,  if  1 
could  find  something  left  in  me  to  take  hold  of,  to  build 
upon,  to  begin  over  again,  perhaps,  by  going  back  to  the 
old  associations.  I  could  think  of  no  better  place,  and  I 
knew  that  my  father  would  be  going  away  after  a  few 
weeks,  and  that  I  should  be  alone,  yet  with  an  atmosphere 
back  of  me,  —  my  old  atmosphere.  That  was  why  I  went 
to  church  the  first  Sunday,  in  order  to  feel  more  definitely 
that  atmosphere,  to  summon  up  more  completely  the  image 
of  my  mother.  More  and  more,  as  the  years  have  passed, 
I  have  thought  of  her  in  moments  of  trouble.  I  have 
recovered  her  as  I  never  had  hoped  to  do  in  Mr.  Bentley. 
Isn't  it  strange,"  she  exclaimed  wonderingly,  "that  he 
should  have  come  into  both  our  lives,  with  such  an  influ 
ence,  at  this  time? 

"  And  then  I  met  you,  talked  to  you  that  afternoon  in 
the  garden.  Shall  I  make  a  complete  confession?  I 
wrote  to  Jennings  Howe  that  very  week  that  I  could  not 
marry  him." 

"  You  knew  !  "   Hodder  exclaimed.    "  You  knew  then  ?  " 

"Ah,  I  can't  tell  what  I  knew  —  or  when.  I  knew, 
after  I  had  seen  you,  that  I  couldn't  marry  him.  Isn't 
that  enough?" 

He  drew  in  his  breath  deeply. 

"  I  should  be  less  than  a  man  if  I  refused  to  take  you, 
Alison.  And  —  no  matter  what  happens,  I  can  and  will 
find  some  honest  work  to  support  you.  But  oh,  my  dear, 
when  I  think  of  it,  the  nobility  and  generosity  of  what 
you  have  done  appalls  me." 

"  No,  no  I  "  she  protested,  "  you  mustn't  say  that  I     1 


462  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

needed  you  more  than  you  need  me.  And  haven't  we 
both  discovered  the  world,  and  renounced  it?  I  can  at 
least  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,  with  all  my  heart.  And 
isn't  marriage  truer  and  higher  when  man  and  wife  start 
with  difficulties  and  problems  to  solve  together?  It  is 
that  thought  that  brings  me  the  greatest  joy,  that  I  may 
be  able  to  help  you.  .  .  .  Didn't  you  need  me,  just  a 
little?" 

"Now  that  I  have  you,  I  am  unable  to  think  of  the 
emptiness  which  might  have  been.  You  came  to  me,  like 
Beatrice,  when  I  had  lost  my  way  in  the  darkness  of  the 
wood.  And  like  Beatrice,  you  showed  me  the  path,  and 
hell  and  heaven." 

"  Oh,  you  would  have  found  the  path  without  me.  I 
cannot  claim  that.  I  saw  from  the  first  that  you  were 
destined  to  find  it.  And,  unlike  Beatrice,  I  too  was  lost, 
and  it  was  you  who  lifted  me  up.  You  mustn't  idealize 
me."  .  .  .  She  stood  up.  "Come!"  she  said.  He  too 
stood,  gazing  at  her,  and  she  lifted  her  hands  to  his 
shoulders.  .  .  .  They  moved  out  from  under  the  tree  and 
walked  for  a  while  in  silence  across  the  dew-drenched 
grass,  towards  Park  Street.  The  moon,  which  had  ridden 
over  a  great  space  in  the  sky,  hung  red  above  the  blackness 
of  the  forest  to  the  west. 

"  Do  you  remember  when  we  were  here  together,  the 
day  I  met  Mr.  Bentley?  And  you  never  would  have 
spoken !  " 

"How  could  I,  Alison?"  he  asked. 

"No,  you  couldn't.     And  yet  —  you  would  have  let  me 

go-" 

He  put  his  arm  in  hers,  and  drew  her  towards  him. 

"  I  must  talk  to  your  father,"  he  said,  "  some  day  — 
soon.  I  ought  to  tell  him  —  of  our  intentions.  We  can 
not  go  on  like  this." 

"No,"  she  agreed,  "I  realize  it.  And  I  cannot  stay, 
much  longer,  in  Park  Street.  I  must  go  back  to  New 
York,  until  you  send  for  me,  dear.  And  there  are  things 
I  must  do.  Do  you  know,  even  though  I  antagonize  him 
so  —  my  father,  I  mean  —  even  though  he  suspects  and 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  463 

bitterly  resents  my  interest  in  you,  my  affection  for  you, 
and  that  I  have  lingered  because  of  you,  I  believe,  in  his 
way,  he  has  liked  to  have  me  here." 

"  I  can  understand  it,"  Hodder  said. 

"It's  because  you  are  bigger  than  I,  although  he  has 
quarrelled  with  you  so  bitterly.  1  don't  know  what 
definite  wrongs  he  has  done  to  other  persons,  I  don't 
wish  to  know.  I  don't  ask  you  to  tell  me  what  passed 
between  you  that  night.  Once  you  said  that  you  had  an 
affection  for  him  —  that  he  was  lonely.  He  is  lonely.  In 
these  last  weeks,  in  spite  of  his  anger,  I  can  see  that  he 
suffers  terribly.  It  is  a  tragedy,  because  he  will  never 
give  in.5' 

"It  is  a  tragedy."     Hodder's  tone  was  agitated. 

"I  wonder  if  he  realizes  a  little  "  she  began,  and 

paused.  "Now  that  Preston  has  come  home " 

"  Your  brother?"    Hodder  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  I  don't  know  why  he 
came,"  she  faltered.  "  I  suppose  he  has  got  into  some 
new  trouble.  He  seems  changed.  I  can't  describe  it 
now,  but  I  will  tell  you  about  it.  ...  It's  the  first  time 
we've  all  three  been  together  since  my  mother  died,  for 
Preston  wasn't  back  from  college  when  I  went  to  Paris  to 
study.  ..." 

They  stood  together  on  the  pavement  before  the  massive 
house,  fraught  with  so  many  and  varied  associations  for 
Hodder.  And  as  he  looked  up  at  it,  his  eye  involuntarily 
rested  upon  the  windows  of  the  boy's  room  where  Eldon 
Parr  had  made  his  confession.  Alison  startled  him  by 
pronouncing  his  name,  which  came  with  such  unaccus 
tomed  sweetness  from  her  lips. 

"You  will  write  me  to-morrow,"  she  said,  "after  you 
have  seen  the  bishop  ?  " 

"  Yes,  at  once.      You  mustn't  let  it  worry  you." 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  cast  off  that  kind  of  worry  forever. 
It  is  only  —  the  other  worries  from  which  we  do  not  es 
cape,  from  which  we  do  not  wish  to  escape." 

With  a  wonderful  smile  she  had  dropped  his  hands  and 
gone  in  at  the  entrance,  when  a  sound  made  them  turn, 


464  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

the  humming  of  a  motor.  And  even  as  they  looked  it 
swung  into  Park  Street. 

"It's  a  taxicab!  "  she  said.  As  she  spoke  it  drew  up 
almost  beside  them,  instead  of  turning  in  at  the  driveway, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  man  alighted. 

"  Preston!  "  Alison  exclaimed. 

He  started,  turning  from  the  driver,  whom  he  was 
about  to  pay.  As  for  Hodder,  he  was  not  only  under 
going  a  certain  shock  through  the  sudden  contact,  at  such 
a  moment,  with  Alison's  brother:  there  was  an  additional 
shock  that  this  was  Alison's  brother  and  Eldon  Parr's 
son.  Not  that  his  appearance  was  shocking,  although  the 
well-clad,  athletic  figure  was  growing  a  trifle  heavy,  and 
the  light  from  the  side  lamps  of  the  car  revealed  dissipa 
tion  in  a  still  handsome  face.  The  effect  was  a  subtler 
one,  not  to  be  analyzed,  and  due  to  a  multitude  of  pre 
conceptions. 

Alison  came  forward. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Hodder,  Preston,"  she  said  simply. 

For  a  moment  Preston  continued  to  stare  at  the  rector 
without  speaking.  Suddenly  he  put  out  his  hand. 

"  Mr.  Hodder,  of  St.  John's  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"Yes,"  answered  Hodder.  His  surprise  deepened  to 
perplexity  at  the  warmth  of  the  handclasp  that  followed. 

A  smile  that  brought  back  vividly  to  Hodder  the  sunny 
expression  of  the  schoolboy  in  the  picture  lightened  the 
features  of  the  man. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  left 
no  doubt  of  its  genuine  quality. 

"Thank  you,"  Hodder  replied,  meeting  his  eye  with 
kindness,  yet  with  a  scrutiny  that  sought  to  penetrate 
the  secret  of  an  unexpected  cordiality.  "I,  too,  have 
hoped  to  see  you." 

Alison,  who  stood  by  wondering,  felt  a  meaning  behind 
the  rector's  words.  She  pressed  his  hand  as  he  bade  her, 
once  more,  good  night. 

"  Won't  you  take  my  taxicab  ?  "  asked  Preston.  "  It  is 
going  down  town  anyway." 

"  I  think  I'd  better  stick  to  the  street  cars,"  Hodder 


THE   CURRENT   OF   LIFE  465 

said.     His  refusal  was  not  ungraceful,  but  firm.     Preston 
did  not  insist. 

In  spite  of  the  events  of  that  evening,  which  he  went 
over  again  and  again  as  the  midnight  car  carried  him 
eastward,  in  spite  of  a  new-born  happiness  the  actuality 
of  which  was  still  difficult  to  grasp,  Hodder  was  vaguely 
troubled  when  he  thought  of  Preston  Parr. 


2H 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

RETRIBUTION 


THE  Bishop's  House  was  a  comfortable,  double  dwelling 
of  a  smooth,  bright  red  brick  and  large,  plate-glass  win 
dows,  situated  in  a  plot  at  the  western  end  of  Waverley 
Place.  It  had  been  bought  by  the  Diocese  in  the  nineties, 
and  was  representative  of  that  transitional  period  in 
American  architecture  when  the  mansard  roof  had  been 
repudiated,  when  as  yet  no  definite  types  had  emerged  to 
take  its  place.  The  house  had  pointed  gables,  and  a  tiny 
and  utterly  useless  porch  that  served  only  to  darken  the 
front  door,  made  of  heavy  pieces  of  wood  fantastically 
curved. 

It  was  precisely  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Hodder 
rang  the  bell  and  was  shown  into  the  ample  study  which 
he  had  entered  on  other  and  less  vital  occasions.  He 
found  difficulty  in  realizing  that  this  pleasant  room,  lined 
with  well-worn  books  and  overlooking  a  back  lawn  where 
the  clothes  of  the  episcopal  family  hung  in  the  yellow 
autumn  sun,  was  to  be  his  judgment  seat,  whence  he 
might  be  committed  to  trial  for  heresy. 

And  this  was  the  twentieth  century!  The  full  force 
of  the  preposterous  fact  smote  him,  and  a  consciousness  of 
the  distance  he  himself  had  travelled  since  the  compara 
tively  recent  days  of  his  own  orthodoxy.  And  suddenly 
he  was  full  again  of  a  resentful  impatience,  not  only  that 
he  should  be  called  away  from  his  labours,  his  cares,  the 
strangers  who  were  craving  his  help,  to  answer  charges  of 
such  an  absurd  triviality,  but  that  the  performance  of  the 
great  task  to  which  he  had  set  his  hand,  with  God's  help, 

466 


RETRIBUTION  467 

should  depend  upon  it.  Would  his  enemies  be  permitted 
to  drive  him  out  thus  easily  ? 

The  old  bishop  came  in,  walking  by  the  aid  of  a  cane. 
He  smiled  at  Hodder,  who  greeted  him  respectfully,  and 
bidding  him  sit  down,  took  a  chair  himself  behind  his 
writing  table,  from  whence  he  gazed  awhile  earnestly  and 
contemplatively  at  the  rugged  features  and  strong 
shoulders  of  the  rector  of  St.  John's.  The  effect  of  the 
look  was  that  of  a  visual  effort  to  harmonize  the  man  with 
the  deed  he  had  done,  the  stir  he  had  created  in  the  city 
and  the  diocese;  to  readjust  impressions. 

A  hint  of  humour  crept  into  the  bishop's  blue  eyes, 
which  were  watery,  yet  strong,  with  heavy  creases  in  the 
corners.  He  indicated  by  a  little  gesture  three  bundles 
of  envelopes,  bound  by  rubber  bands,  on  the  corner  of  his 
blotter. 

"  Hodder,"  he  said,  "  see  what  a  lot  of  trouble  you  have 
made  for  me  in  my  old  age!  All  those  are  about  you." 

The  rector's  expression  could  not  have  been  deemed 
stern,  but  it  had  met  the  bishop's  look  unflinchingly. 
Now  it  relaxed  into  a  responding  smile,  which  was  not 
without  seriousness. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  Hodder  answered,  "  to  have  caused 
you  any  worry  or  inconvenience." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  bishop,  "  I  have  had  too  much 
smooth  sailing  for  a  servant  of  Christ.  Indeed,  I  have 
come  to  that  conclusion." 

Hodder  did  not  reply.  He  was  moved,  even  more  by 
the  bishop's  manner  and  voice  than  his  words.  And  the 
opening  to  their  conversation  was  unexpected.  The  old 
man  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  drew  from  the  top  of  one 
of  the  bundles  a  letter. 

"  This  is  from  one  of  your  vestrymen,  Mr.  Gordon  Atter- 
bury,"  he  said,  and  proceeded  to  read  it,  slowly.  When 
he  had  finished  he  laid  it  down. 

"  Is  that,  according  to  your  recollection,  Mr.  Hodder,  a 
fairly  accurate  summary  of  the  sermon  you  gave  when 
you  resumed  the  pulpit  at  the  end  of  the  summer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  rector,  "  it  is  surprisingly  ac- 


468  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

curate,  with  the  exception  of  two  or  three  inferences  which 
I  shall  explain  at  the  proper  moment." 

"  Mr.  Atterbury  is  to  be  congratulated  on  his  memory/' 
the  bishop  observed  a  little  dryly.     "  And  he  has  saved 
me  the  trouble  of  reading  more.     Now  what  are  the  in 
ferences  to  which  you  object  ?  " 

Hodder  stated  them.  "  The  most  serious  one,"  he 
added,  "  is  that  which  he  draws  from  my  attitude  on  the 
virgin  birth.  Mr.  Atterbury  insists,  like  others  who 
cling  to  that  dogma,  that  I  have  become  what  he  vaguely 
calls  an  Unitarian.  He  seems  incapable  of  grasping  my 
meaning,  that  the  only  true  God  the  age  knows,  the 
world  has  ever  known,  is  the  God  in  Christ,  is  the  Spirit 
in  Christ,  and  is  there  not  by  any  material  proof,  but  be 
cause  we  recognize  it  spiritually.  And  that  doctrine  and 
dogma,  ancient  speculations  as  to  how,  definitely,  that 
spirit  came  to  be  in  Christ,  are  fruitless  and  mischievous 
to-day.  Mr.  Atterbury  and  others  seem  actually  to  re 
sent  my  identification  of  our  Lord's  Spirit  with  the  social 
conscience  as  well  as  the  individual  conscience  of  our 
time." 

The  bishop  nodded. 

"  Hodder,"  he  demanded  abruptly,  "leaning  forward  over 
his  desk,  "  how  did  this  thing  happen  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  sir "     There  was,  in  the  bishop's  voice, 

a  note  almost  pathetic. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  ask  you  anything  you  may  deem  too 
personal.  And  God  forbid,  as  I  look  at  you,  as  I  have 
known  you,  that  I  should  doubt  your  sincerity.  I  am  not 
your  inquisitor,  but  your  bishop  and  your  friend,  and  I 
am  asking  for  your  confidence.  Six  months  ago  you  were, 
apparently,  one  of  the  most  orthodox  rectors  in  the  diocese. 
I  recognize  that  you  are  not  an  impulsive,  sensational 
man,  and  I  am  all  the  more  anxious  to  learn  from  your 
own  lips  something  of  the  influences,  of  the  processes 
which  have  changed  you,  which  have  been  strong  enough 
to  impel  you  to  risk  the  position  you  have  achieved." 

By  this  unlooked-for  appeal  Hodder  was  not  only  dis 
armed,  but  smitten  with  self-reproach  at  the  thought  of 


KETRIBUTION  469 

his  former  misjudgment  and  underestimation  of  the  man 
in  whose  presence  he  sat.  And  it  came  over  him,  not 
only  the  extent  to  which,  formerly,  he  had  regarded  the 
bishop  as  too  tolerant  and  easy-going,  but  the  fact  that  he 
had  arrived  here  to-day  prepared  to  find  in  his  superior 
anything  but  the  attitude  he  was  showing.  Considering 
the  bishop's  age,  Hodder  had  been  ready  for  a  lack  of 
understanding  of  the  step  he  had  taken,  even  for  querulous 
reproaches  and  rebuke. 

He  had,  therefore,  to  pull  himself  together,  to  adjust  him 
self  to  the  unexpected  greatness  of  soul  with  which  he  was 
being  received  before  he  began  to  sketch  the  misgivings 
he  had  felt  from  the  early  days  of  his  rectorship  of  St. 
John's  ;  the  helplessness  and  failure  which  by  degrees  had 
come  over  him.  He  related  how  it  had  become  apparent 
to  him  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  his  rich  and  fashion 
able  congregation  were  Christians  only  in  name,  who  kept 
their  religion  in  a  small  and  impervious  compartment 
where  it  did  not  interfere  with  their  lives.  He  pictured 
the  yearning  and  perplexity  of  those  who  had  come  to 
him  for  help,  who  could  not  accept  the  old  explanations, 
and  had  gone  away  empty ;  and  he  had  not  been  able  to 
make  Christians  of  the  poor  who  attended  the  parish 
house.  Finally,  trusting  in  the  bishop's  discretion,  he 
spoke  of  the  revelations  he  had  unearthed  in  Dalton  Street, 
and  how  these  had  completely  destroyed  his  confidence  in 
the  Christianity  he  had  preached,  and  how  he  had  put  his 
old  faith  to  the  test  of  unprejudiced  modern  criticism, 
philosophy,  and  science.  .  .  . 

The  bishop  listened  intently,  his  head  bent,  his  eyes  on 
the  rector. 

"  And  you  have  come  out  —  convinced  ?  "  he  asked 
tremulously.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  see  you  have.  It  is  enough." 

He  relapsed  into  thought,  his  wrinkled  hand  lying  idly 
on  the  table. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you,  my  friend,"  he  resumed  at  length, 
"  that  a  great  deal  of  pressure  has  been  brought  to  bear 
upon  me  in  this  matter,  more  than  I  have  ever  before 
experienced.  You  have  mortally  offended,  among  others, 


470  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

the  most  powerful  layman  in  the  diocese,  Mr.  Parr,  who 
complains  that  you  have  presumed  to  take  him  to  task 
concerning  his  private  affairs." 

"I  told  him,"  answered  Hodder,  "that  so  long  as  he 
continued  to  live  the  life  he  leads,  I  could  not  accept  his 
contributions  to  St.  John's." 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  said  the  bishop,  "and  whatever 
usefulness  I  have  had  is  almost  finished.  But  if  I  were 
young  to-day,  I  should  pray  God  for  the  courage  and 
insight  you  have  shown,  and  I  am  thankful  to  have  lived 
long  enough  to  have  known  you.  It  has,  at  least,  been 
given  me  to  realize  that  times  have  changed,  that  we 
are  on  the  verge  of  a  mighty  future.  I  will  be  frank  to 
say  that  ten  years  ago,  if  this  had  happened,  I  should  have 
recommended  you  for  trial.  Now  I  can  only  wish  you 
God-speed.  I,  too,  can  see  the  light,  my  friend.  I  can 
see,  I  think,  though  dimly^jthe  beginnings  of  a  blending 
of  all  sects,  of  all  religions  m  the  increasing  vision  of 
the  truth  revealed  in  Jesus  Christ,  stripped,  as  you  say, 
of  dogma,  of  fruitless  attempts  at  rational  explanation. 
In  Japan  and  China,  in  India  and  Persia,  as  well  as  in 
Christian  countries,  it  is  coming,  coming  by  some  working 
of  the  Spirit  the  mystery  of  which  is  beyond  us.  And 
nations  and  men  who  even  yet  know  nothing  of  the  Gos 
pels  are  showing  a  willingness  to  adopt  what  is  Christ's, 
and  the  God  of  Christ." 

Hodder  was  silent,  from  sheer  inability  to  speak. 

"  If  you  had  needed  an  advocate  with  me,"  the  bishop 
continued,  "  you  could  not  have  had  one  to  whose  counsel 
I  would  more  willingly  have  listened  than  that  of  Horace 
Bentley.  He  wrote  asking  to  come  and  see  me,  but  I 
went  to  him  in  Dalton  Street  the  day  I  returned.  And  it 
gives  me  satisfaction,  Mr.  Hodder,  to  confess  to  you  freely 
that  he  has  taught  me,  by  his  life,  more  of  true  Christian 
ity  than  I  have  learned  in  all  my  experience  elsewhere." 

"  I  had  thought,"  exclaimed  the  rector,  wonderingly, 
"that  lowed  him  more  than  any  other  man." 

"There  are  many  who  think  that  —  hundreds,  I 
should  say,"  the  bishop  replied.  ..."  Eldon  Parr  ruined 


RETRIBUTION  471 

him,  drove  him  from  the  church.  ...  It  is  strange  howf 
outside  of  the  church,  his  influence  has  silently  and  con 
tinuously  grown  until  it  has  borne  fruit  in  —  this.  Even 
now,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  uthe  cautiousness,  the 
dread  of  change  which  comes  with  old  age  might,  I  think, 
lead  me  to  be  afraid  of  it  if  I  didn't  perceive  behind  it  the 
spirit  of  Horace  Bentley." 

It  struck  Hodder,  suddenly,  what  an  unconscious  but 
real  source  of  confidence  this  thought  had  likewise  been 
to  him.  He  spoke  of  it. 

"  It  is  not  that  I  wouldn't  trust  you,"  the  bishop  went 
on.  "  I  have  watched  you,  I  have  talked  to  Asa  Waring, 
I  have  read  the  newspapers.  In  spite  of  it  all,  you  have 
kept  your  head,  you  have  not  compromised  the  dignity  of 
the  Church.  But  oh,  my  friend,  I  beg  you  to  bear  in 
mind  that  you  are  launched  upon  deep  waters,  that  you 
have  raised  up  many  enemies  —  enemies  of  Christ — who 
seek  to  destroy  you.  You  are  still  young.  And  the 
uncompromising  experiment  to  which  you  are  pledged,  of 
freeing  your  church,  of  placing  her  in  the  position  of 
power  and  influence  in  the  community  which  is  rightfully 
hers,  is  as  yet  untried.  And  no  stone  will  be  left  un 
turned  to  discourage  and  overcome  you.  You  have 
faith,  —  you  have  made  me  feel  it  as  you  sat  here,  —  a 
faith  which  will  save  you  from  bitterness  in  personal 
defeat.  You  may  not  reap  the  victory,  or  even  see  it  in 
your  lifetime.  But  of  this  I  am  sure,  that  you  will  be 
able  to  say,  with  Paul,  4 1  have  planted,  Apollos  watered, 
but  God  gave  the  increase.'  Whatever  happens,  you  may 
count  upon  my  confidence  and  support.  I  can  only  wish 
that  I  were  younger,  that  my  arm  were  stronger,  and  that 
I  had  always  perceived  the  truth  as  clearly  as  I  see  it 
now." 

Hodder  had  risen  involuntarily  while  these  words  were 
being  spoken.  They  were  indeed  a  benediction,  and  the 
intensity  of  his  feeling  warned  him  of  the  inadequacy  of 
any  reply.  They  were  pronounced  in  sorrow,  yet  in 
hope,  and  they  brought  home  to  him,  sharply,  the  nobility 
of  the  bishop's  own  sacrifice. 


472  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  And  you,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ah,"  answered  the  bishop,  "  with  this  I  shall  have 
had  my  life.  .  I  am  content.  .  .  ." 

"  You  will  come  to  me  again,  Hodder,  some  other  day," 
he  said,  after  an  interval,  "that  we  may  talk  over  the 
new  problems.  They  are  constructive,  creative,  and  I 
am  anxious  to  hear  how  you  propose  to  meet  them.  For 
one  thing,  to  find  a  new  basis  for  the  support  of  such  a 
parish.  I  understand  they  have  deprived  you  of  your 
salary." 

"  I  have  enough  to  live  on,  for  a  year  or  so,"  replied 
the  rector,  quickly.  "  Perhaps  more." 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  the  bishop,  with  a  smile  in  his  old 
eyes,  "that  you  will  need  it,  my  friend.  But  who  can 
say  ?  You  have  strength,  you  have  confidence,  and  God 
is  with  you." 

II 

Life,  as  Hodder  now  grasped  it,  was  a  rapidly  whirling 
wheel  which  gave  him  no  chance  to  catch  up  with  the 
impressions  and  experiences  through  which  it  was  drag 
ging  him.  Here,  for  instance,  were  two  far-reaching  and 
momentous  events,  one  crowding  upon  the  other,  and  not 
an  hour  for  reflection,  realization,  or  adjustment!  He  had, 
indeed,  after  his  return  from  the  bishop's,  snatched  a  few 
minutes  to  write  Alison  the  unexpected  result  of  that 
interview.  But  even  as  he  wrote  and  rang  for  a  mes 
senger  to  carry  the  note  to  Park  Street,  he  was  conscious 
of  an  effort  to  seize  upon  and  hold  the  fact  that  the 
woman  he  had  so  intensely  desired  was  now  his  helpmate; 
and  had,  of  her  own  free  will,  united  herself  with  him. 
A  strong  sense  of  the  dignity  of  their  relationship  alone 
prevented  his  calling  her  on  the  telephone  —  as  it  doubt 
less  had  prevented  her.  While  she  remained  in  her 
father's  house,  he  could  not.  .  .  . 

In  the  little  room  next  to  the  office  several  persons  were 
waiting  to  see  him.  But  as  he  went  downstairs  he 
halted  on  the  landing,  his  hand  going  to  his  forehead,  a 
reflex  movement  significant  of  a  final  attempt  to  achieve 


RETRIBUTION  473 

the  hitherto  unattainable  feat  of  imagining  her  as  his  wife. 
If  he  might  only  speak  to  her  again  —  now,  this  morning! 
And  yet  he  knew  that  he  needed  no  confirmation.  The 
reality  was  there,  in  the  background;  and  though  refus 
ing  to  come  forward  to  be  touched,  it  had  already  grafted 
itself  as  an  actual  and  vital  part  of  his  being,  never  to  be 
eliminated. 

Characteristically  perfecting  his  own  ideal,  she  had 
come  to  him  in  the  hour  when  his  horizon  had  been  most 
obscure.  And  he  experienced  now  an  exultation,  though 
solemn  and  sacred,  that  her  faith  had  so  far  been  rewarded 
in  the  tidings  he  now  confided  to  the  messenger.  He  was 
not,  as  yet,  to  be  driven  out  from  the  task,  to  be  deprived 
of  the  talent,  the  opportunity  intrusted  to  him  by  his 
Lord  —  the  emancipation  of  the  parish  of  St.  John's. 

The  first  to  greet  him,  when  he  entered  his  office,  was 
one  who,  unknown  to  himself,  had  been  fighting  the  battle 
of  the  God  in  Christ,  and  who  now,  thanks  to  John 
Hodder,  had  identified  the  Spirit  as  the  transforming 
force.  Bedloe  Hubbell  had  come  to  offer  his  services  to 
the  Church.  The  tender  was  unqualified. 

"  I  should  even  be  willing,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said  with 
a  smile,  "  to  venture  occasionally  into  a  pulpit.  You  have 
not  only  changed  my  conception  of  religion,  but  you 
have  made  it  for  me  something  which  I  can  now  speak 
about  naturally." 

Hodder  was  struck  by  the  suggestion. 

"  Ah,  we  shall  need  the  laymen  in  the  pulpits,  Mr. 
Hubbell,"  he  said  quickly.  "  A  great  spiritual  movement 
must  be  primarily  a  lay  movement.  And  I  promise  you 
you  shall  not  lack  for  opportunity." 

Hi 

At  nine  o'clock  that  evening,  when  a  reprieve  came, 
Hodder  went  out.  Anxiety  on  the  score  of  Kate  Marcy, 
as  well  as  a  desire  to  see  Mr.  Bentley  and  tell  him  of  the 
conversation  with  the  bishop,  directed  his  steps  toward 
Dalton  Street.  And  Hodder  had,  indeed,  an  intention  of 


474  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

confiding  to  his  friend,  as  one  eminently  entitled  to  it,  the 
news  of  his  engagement  to  Alison  Parr. 

Nothing,  however,  had  been  heard  of  Kate.  She  was 
not  in  Dalton  Street,  Mr.  Bentley  feared.  The  search  of 
Gratz,  the  cabinet-maker,  had  been  fruitless.  And  Sally 
Grover  had  even  gone  to  see  the  woman  in  the  hospital, 
whom  Kate  had  befriended,  in  the  hope  of  getting  a 
possible  clew.  They  sat  close  together  before  the  fire  in 
Mr.  Bentley 's  comfortable  library,  debating  upon  the 
possibility  of  other  methods  of  procedure,  when  a  carriage 
was  heard  rattling  over  the  pitted  asphalt  without.  As  it 
pulled  up  at  the  curb,  a  silence  fell  between  them,  The 
door-bell  rang. 

Hodder  found  himself  sitting  erect,  rigidly  attentive, 
listening  to  the  muffled  sound  of  a  woman's  voice  in  the 
entry.  A  few  moments  later  came  a  knock  at  the  library 
door,  and  Sam  entered.  The  old  darky  was  plainly 
frightened. 

"  It's  Miss  Kate,  Marse  Ho'ace,  who  you  bin  tryin'  to 
fin', "  he  stammered. 

Hodder  sprang  to  his  feet  and  made  his  way  rapidly 
around  the  table,  where  he  stood  confronting  the  woman 
in  the  doorway.  There  she  was,  perceptibly  swaying,  as 
though  the  floor  under  her  were  rocked  by  an  earthquake. 
Her  handsome  face  was  white  as  chalk,  her  pupils  widened 
in  terror.  It  was  curious,  at  such  an  instant,  that  he 
should  have  taken  in  her  costume,  —  yet  it  was  part  of  the 
mystery.  She  wore  a  new,  close-fitting,  patently  expen 
sive  suit  of  dark  blue  cloth  and  a  small  hat,  which  were 
literally  transforming  in  their  eff ect,  demanding  a  palpable 
initial  effort  of  identification. 

He  seized  her  by  the  arm. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Oh,  my  God  !  "  she  cried.  "He  —  he's  out  there  — in 
the  carriage." 

She  leaned  heavily  against  the  doorpost,  shivering. 
.  .  .  Hodder  saw  Sally  Grover  coming  down  the  stairs. 

"  Take  her,"  he  said,  and  went  out  of  the  front  door, 
which  Sam  had  left  open.  Mr.  Bentley  was  behind  him. 


RETRIBUTION  475 

The  driver  had  descended  from  the  box  and  was  peering 
into  the  darkness  of  the  vehicle  when  he  heard  them,  and 
turned.  At  sight  of  the  tall  clergyman,  an  expression  of 
relief  came  into  his  face. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  this,  sir,"  he  said.  "  I  thought 
he  was  pretty  bad  when  I  went  to  fetch  him " 

Hodder  pushed  past  him  and  looked  into  the  carriage. 
Leaning  back,  motionless,  in  the  corner  of  the  seat  was 
the  figure  of  a  man.  For  a  terrible  moment  of  premoni 
tion,  of  enlightenment,  the  rector  gazed  at  it. 

"  They  sent  for  me  from  a  family  hotel  in  Ayers 

Street "  the  driver  was  explaining.  Mr.  Bentley's 

voice  interrupted  him. 

"  He  must  be  brought  in,  at  once.  Do  you  know  where 
Dr.  Latimer's  office  is,  on  Tower  Street?"  he  asked  the 
man.  "  Go  there,  and  bring  the  doctor  back  with  you  as 
quickly  as  possible.  If  he  is  not  in,  get  another 
physician." 

Between  them,  the  driver  and  Hodder  got  the  burden 
out  of  the  carriage  and  up  the  steps.  The  light  from  the 
hallway  confirmed  the  rector's  fear. 

"  It's  Preston  Parr,"  he  said. 

The  next  moment  was  too  dreadful  for  surprise,  but 
never  had  the  sense  of  tragedy  so  pierced  the  innermost 
depths  of  Hodder's  being  as  now,  when  Horace  Bentley's 
calmness  seemed  to  have  forsaken  him ;  and  as  he  gazed 
down  upon  the  features  on  the  pillow,  he  wept.  .  .  . 
Hodder  turned  away.  Whatever  memories  those  features 
evoked,  memories  of  a  past  that  still  throbbed  with  life  — 
these  were  too  sacred  for  intrusion.  The  years  of  exile, 
of  uncomplaining  service  to  others  in  this  sordid  street 
and  over  the  wide  city  had  not  yet  sufficed  to  allay  the 
pain,  to  heal  the  wound  of  youth.  Nay,  loyalty  had  kept 
it  fresh  —  a  loyalty  that  was  the  handmaid  of  faith.  .  .  . 

The  rector  softly  left  the  room,  only  to  be  confronted 
with  another  harrowing  scene  in  the  library,  where  a 
frantic  woman  was  struggling  in  Sally  Grover's  grasp. 
He  went  to  her  assistance.  .  .  .  Words  of  comfort,  of 
entreaty  were  of  no  avail,  —  Kate  Marcy  did  not  seem  to 


476  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

hear  them.  Hers,  in  contrast  to  that  other,  was  the  un 
meaning  grief,  the  overwhelming  sense  of  injustice  of  the 
child ;  and  with  her  regained  physical  strength  the  two 
had  all  the}r  could  do  to  restrain  her. 

"  I  will  go  to  him,"  she  sobbed,  between  her  paroxysms, 
"  you've  got  no  right  to  keep  me  —  he's  mine  ...  he  came 
back  to  me  — he's  all  I  ever  had.  .  .  ." 

So  intent  were  they  that  they  did  not  notice  Mr.  Bentley 
standing  beside  them  until  they  heard  his  voice. 

"  What  she  says  is  true,"  he  told  them.  "  Her  place  is 
in  there.  Let  her  go." 

Kate  Marcy  raised  her  head  at  the  words,  and  looked  at 
him  —  a  strange,  half-comprehending,  half-credulous  gaze. 
They  released  her,  helped  her  towards  the  bedroom,  and 
closed  the  door  gently  behind  her.  .  .  .  The  three  sat 
in  silence  until  the  carriage  was  heard  returning,  and  the 
doctor  entered. 

The  examination  was  brief,  and  two  words,  laconically 
spoken,  sufficed  for  an  explanation  —  apoplexy,  alcohol. 
The  prostrate,  quivering  woman  was  left  where  they  had 
found  her. 

Dr.  Latimer  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Bentley's,  and  betrayed 
no  surprise  at  a  situation  which  otherwise  might  have 
astonished  him.  It  was  only  when  he  learned  the  dead 
man's  name,  and  his  parentage,  that  he  looked  up  quickly 
from  his  note  book. 

"  The  matter  can  be  arranged  without  a  scandal,"  he 
said,  after  an  instant.  "  Can  you  tell  me  something  of  the 
circumstances?" 

It  was  Hodder  who  answered. 

"  Preston  Parr  had  been  in  love  with  this  woman,  and 
separated  from  her.  She  was  under  Mr.  Bentley's  care 
when  he  found  her  again,  I  infer,  by  accident.  From  what 
the  driver  says,  they  were  together  in  a  hotel  in  Ayers 
Street,  and  he  died  after  he  had  been  put  in  a  carriage. 
In  her  terror,  she  was  bringing  him  to  Mr.  Bentley." 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"  Poor  woman  !  "  he  said  unexpectedly.  "  Will  you  be 
good  enough  to  let  Mr.  Parr  know  that  I  will  see  him  at 
his  house,  to-night?"  he  added,  as  he  took  his  departure. 


RETRIBUTION  477 

IV 

Sally  Grover  went  out  with  the  physician,  and  it  was 
Mr.  Bentley  who  answered  the  question  in  the  rector's 
mind,  which  he  hesitated  to  ask. 

"  Mr.  Parr  must  come  here,"  he  said. 

As  the  rector  turned,  mechanically,  to  pick  up  his  hat, 
Mr.  Bentley  added  : 

"  You  will  come  back,  Hodder?  " 

"  Since  you  wish  it,  sir, "  the  rector  said. 

Once  in  the  street,  he  faced  a  predicament,  but  swiftly 
decided  that  the  telephone  was  impossible  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  that  there  could  be  no  decent  procedure  with 
out  going  himself  to  Park  Street.  It  was  only  a  little 
after  ten.  The  electric  car  which  he  caught  seemed  to 
lag,  the  stops  were  interminable.  His  thoughts  flew 
hither  and  thither.  Should  he  try  first  to  see  Alison? 
He  was  nearest  to  her  now  of  all  the  world,  and  he  could 
not  suffer  the  thought  of  her  having  the  news  otherwise. 
Yes,  he  must  tell  her,  since  she  knew  nothing  of  the  ex 
istence  of  Kate  Marcy. 

Having  settled  that,  —  though  the  thought  of  the  blow 
she  was  to  receive  lay  like  a  weight  on  his  heart,  —  Mr. 
Bentley's  reason  for  summoning  Eldon  Parr  to  Dalton 
Street  came  to  him.  That  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Bentley 
towards  the  financier  were  those  of  Christian  forgiveness 
was  not  for  a  moment  to  be  doubted :  but  a  meeting,  par 
ticularly  under  such  circumstances,  could  not  but  be  pain 
ful  indeed.  It  must  be,  it  was,  Hodder  saw,  for  Kate 
Marcy's  sake ;  yes,  and  for  Eldon  Parr's  as  well,  that  he 
be  given  this  opportunity  to  deal  with  the  woman  whom 
he  had  driven  away  from  his  son,  and  ruined. 

The  moon,  which  had  shed  splendours  over  the  world  the 
night  before,  was  obscured  by  a  low-drifting  mist  as  Hod 
der  turned  in  between  the  ornamental  lamps  that  marked 
the  gateway  of  the  Park  Street  mansion,  and  by  some  un- 
discerned  thought-suggestion  he  pictured  the  heartbroken 
woman  he  had  left  beside  the  body  of  one  who  had  been 
heir  to  all  this  magnificence.  Useless  now,  stone  and  iron 


478  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

and  glass,  pictures  and  statuary.  All  the  labour,  all  the 
care  and  cunning,  all  the  stealthy  planning  to  get  ahead 
of  others  had  been  in  vain !  What  indeed  were  left  to 
Eldon  Parr !  It  was  he  who  needed  pity,  —  not  the 
woman  who  had  sinned  and  had  been  absolved  because  of 
her  great  love ;  not  the  wayward,  vice-driven  boy  who 
lay  dead.  The  very  horror  of  what  Eldon  Parr  was  now 
to  suffer  turned  Hodder  cold  as  he  rang  the  bell  and 
listened  for  the  soft  tread  of  the  servant  who  would  an 
swer  his  summons. 

The  man  who  flung  open  the  door  knew  him,  and  did 
not  conceal  his  astonishment. 

"  Will  you  take  my  card  to  Miss  Parr,"  the  rector  said, 
"if  she  has  not  retired,  and  tell  her  I  have  a  message  ?" 

"Miss  Parr  is  still  in  the  library,  sir." 

"  Alone  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir."  The  man  preceded  him,  but  before  his 
name  had  been  announced  Alison  was  standing,  her  book 
in  her  hand,  gazing  at  him  with  startled  eyes,  his  name 
rising,  a  low  cry,  to  her  lips. 

"John!" 

He  took  the  book  from  her,  gently,  and  held  her  hands. 

"  Something  has  happened  !  "  she  said.  "  Tell  me  —  I 
can  bear  it." 

He  saw  instantly  that  her  dread  was  for  him,  and  it 
made  his  task  the  harder. 

"It's  your  brother,  Alison." 

"Preston!     What  is  it?     He's  done  something " 

Hodder  shook  his  head. 

"He  died  —  to-night.     He  is  at  Mr.  Bentley's." 

It  was  like  her  that  she  did  not  cry  out,  or  even  speak, 
but  stood  still,  her  hands  tightening  on  his,  her  breast 
heaving.  She  was  not,  he  knew,  a  woman  who  wept 
easily,  and  her  eyes  were  dry.  And  he  had  it  to  be 
thankful  for  that  it  was  given  him  to  be  with  her,  in  this 
sacred  relationship,  at  such  a  moment.  But  even  now, 
such  was  the  mystery  that  ever  veiled  her  soul,  he  could 
not  read  her  feelings,  nor  know  what  these  might  be 
towards  the  brother  whose  death  he  announced. 


KETRIBUTION  479 

"I  want  to  tell  you,  first,  Alison,  to  prepare  you,"  he 
said. 

Her  silence  was  eloquent.  She  looked  up  at  him  bravely, 
trustfully,  in  a  way  that  made  him  wince.  Whatever  the 
exact  nature  of  her  suffering,  it  was  too  deep  for  speech. 
And  yet  she  helped  him,  made  it  easier  for  him  by  reason 
of  her  very  trust,  once  given  not  to  be  withdrawn.  It 
gave  him  a  paradoxical  understanding  of  her  which  was 
beyond  definition. 

"You  must  know — you  would  have  sometime  to  know 
that  there  was  a  woman  he  loved,  whom  he  intended  to 
marry  —  but  she  was  separated  from  him.  She  was  not 
what  is  called  a  bad  woman,  she  was  a  working  girl.  I 
found  her,  this  summer,  and  she  told  me  the  story,  and 
she  has  been  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Bentley.  She  disap 
peared  two  or  three  days  ago.  Your  brother  met  her 
again,  and  he  was  stricken  with  apoplexy  while  with  her 
this  evening.  She  brought  him  to  Mr.  Bentley 's  house." 

"My  father  —  bought  her  and  sent  her  away." 

"You  knew?" 

"I  heard  a  little  about  it  at  the  time,  by  accident. 
I  have  always  remembered  it.  ...  I  have  always  felt 
that  something  like  this  would  happen." 

Her  sense  of  fatality,  another  impression  she  gave  of 
living  in  the  deeper,  instinctive  currents  of  life,  had  never 
been  stronger  upon  him  than  now.  .  .  .  She  released 
his  hands. 

"How  strange,"  she  said,  "that  the  end  should  have 
come  at  Mr.  Bentley's !  He  loved  my  mother  —  she  was/ 
the  only  woman  he  ever  loved." 

It  came  to  Hodder  as  the  completing  touch  of  the] 
revelation  he  had  half  glimpsed  by  the  bedside. 

"Ah,"  he  could  not  help  exclaiming,  "that  explains 
much." 

She  had  looked  at  him  again,  through  sudden  tears,  as 
though  divining  his  reference  to  Mr.  Bentley's  grief,  when 
a  step  make  them  turn.  Eldon  Parr  had  entered  the 
room.  Never,  not  even  in  that  last  interview,  had  his 
hardness  seemed  so  concretely  apparent  as  now.  Again, 


480  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

pity  seemed  never  more  out  of  place,  yet  pity  was  Hod 
der's  dominant  feeling  as  he  met  the  coldness,  the  relent- 
lessness  of  the  glance.  The  thing  that  struck  him,  that 
momentarily  kept  closed  his  lips,  was  the  awful,  uncon 
scious  timeliness  of  the  man's  entrance,  and  his  unpre- 
paredness  to  meet  the  blow  that  was  to  crush  him. 

"  May  I  ask,  Mr.  Hodder,"  he  said,  in  an  unemotional 
voice,  "  what  you  are  doing  in  this  house  ?" 

Still  Hodder  hesitated,  an  unwilling  executioner. 

"  Father,"  said  Alison,  "  Mr.  Hodder  has  come  with  a 
message." 

Never,  perhaps,  had  Eldon  Parr  given  such  complete 
proof  of  his  lack  of  spiritual  intuition.  The  atmosphere, 
charged  with  presage  for  him,  gave  him  nothing. 

"  Mr.  Hodder  takes  a  strange  way  of  delivering  it,"  was 
his  comment. 

Mercy  took  precedence  over  her  natural  directness. 
She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm.  And  she  had,  at 
that  instant,  no  thought  of  the  long  years  he  had  neglected 
her  for  her  brother. 

"  It's  about  —  Preston,"  she  said. 

"  Preston ! "  The  name  came  sharply  from  Eldon 
Parr's  lips.  "What  about  him  ?  Speak,  can't  you?" 

"  He  died  this  evening,"  said  Alison,  simply. 

Hodder  plainly  heard  the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the 
mantel.  .  .  .  And  the  drama  that  occurred  was  the 
more  horrible  because  it  was  hidden;  played,  as  it  were, 
behind  closed  doors.  For  the  spectators,  there  was  only 
the  blank  wall,  and  the  silence.  Eldon  Parr  literally  did 
nothing, — made  no  gesture,  uttered  no  cry.  The  death, 
they  knew,  was  taking  place  in  his  soul,  yet  the  man  stood 
before  them,  naturally,  for  what  seemed  an  interminable 
time.  .  .  . 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  he  asked. 

"At  Mr.  Bentley's,  in  Dalton  Street."  It  was  Alison 
who  replied  again. 

Even  then  he  gave  no  sign  that  he  read  retribution  in 
the  coincidence,  betrayed  no  agitation  at  the  mention  of  a 
name  which,  in  such  a  connection,  might  well  have  struck 


RETRIBUTION  481 

the  terror  of  judgment  into  his  heart.  They  watched 
him  while,  with  a  firm  step,  he  crossed  the  room  and 
pressed  a  button  in  the  wall,  and  waited. 

"I  want  the  closed  automobile,  at  once,"  he  said,  when 
the  servant  came. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  I  think  Gratton  has  gone  to 
bed.  He  had  no  orders." 

"Then  wake  him,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  "instantly.  And 
send  for  my  secretary." 

With  a  glance  which  he  perceived  Alison  comprehended, 
Hodder  made  his  way  out  of  the  room.  He  had  from 
Eldon  Parr,  as  he  passed  him,  neither  question,  acknow 
ledgment,  nor  recognition.  Whatever  the  banker  might 
have  felt,  or  whether  his  body  had  now  become  a  mere 
machine  mechanically  carrying  on  a  life-long  habit  of 
action,  the  impression  was  one  of  the  tremendousness  of 
the  man's  consistency.  A  great  effort  was  demanded  to 
summon  up  the  now  almost  unimaginable  experience  of 
his  confidence;  of  the  evening  when,  almost  on  that  very 
spot,  he  had  revealed  to  Hodder  the  one  weakness  of  his 
life.  And  yet  the  effort  was  not  to  be,  presently,  with 
out  startling  results.  In  the  darkness  of  the  street  the 
picture  suddenly  grew  distinct  on  the  screen  of  the  rector's 
mind,  the  face  of  the  banker  subtly  drawn  with  pain  as 
he  had  looked  down  on  it  in  compassion;  the  voice  with 
its  undercurrent  of  agony: 

"He  never  knew  how  much  I  cared  —  that  what  I  was 
doing  was  all  for  him,  building  for  him,  that  he  might 
carry  on  my  work." 

v 

So  swift  was  the  trolley  that  ten  minutes  had  elapsed, 
after  Hodder's  arrival,  before  the  purr  of  an  engine  and 
the  shriek  of  a  brake  broke  the  stillness  of  upper  Dalton 
Street  and  announced  the  stopping  of  a  heavy  motor  before 
the  door.  The  rector  had  found  Mr.  Bentley  in  the 
library,  alone,  seated  with  bent  head  in  front  of  the  fire, 
and  had  simply  announced  the  intention  of  Eldon  Parr  to 
come.  From  the  chair  Hodder  had  unobtrusively  chosen, 

2i 


482  THE  INSIDE  OF  THE   CUP 

near  the  window,  his  eyes  rested  on  the  noble  profile  of  his 
friend.  What  his  thoughts  were,  Hodder  could  not  sur 
mise  ;  for  he  seemed  again,  marvellously,  to  have  regained 
the  outward  peace  which  was  the  symbol  of  banishment 
from  the  inner  man  of  all  thought  of  self. 

"  I  have  prepared  her  for  Mr.  Parr's  coming,"  he  said  to 
Hodder  at  length. 

And  yet  he  had  left  her  there !  Hodder  recalled  the 
words  Mr.  Bentley  had  spoken,  "It  is  her  place."  Her 
place,  the  fallen  woman's,  the  place  she  had  earned  by  a 
great  love  and  a  great  renunciation,  of  which  no  earthly 
power  might  henceforth  deprive  her.  .  .  . 

Then  came  the  motor,  the  ring  at  the  door,  the  entrance 
of  Eldon  Parr  into  the  library.  He  paused,  a  perceptible 
moment,  on  the  threshold  as  his  look  fell  upon  the  man 
whom  he  had  deprived  of  home  and  fortune, — yes  and  of 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  for  them  both.  Mr.  Bentley 
had  risen,  and  stood  facing  him.  That  shining,  compas 
sionate  gaze  should  have  been  indeed  a  difficult  one  to 
meet.  Vengeance  was  the  Lord's,  in  truth  !  What  ordeal 
that  Horace  Bentley  in  anger  and  retribution  might  have 
devised  could  have  equalled  this  ! 

And  yet  Eldon  Parr  did  meet  it  —  with  an  effort.  Hod 
der,  from  his  corner,  detected  the  effort,  though  it  were 
barely  discernible,  and  would  have  passed  a  scrutiny  less 
rigid,  —  the  first  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  lesion 
within.  For  a  brief  instant  the  banker's  eyes  encountered 
Mr.  Bentley's  look  with  a  flash  of  the  old  defiance,  and 
fell,  and  then  swept  the  room. 

"  Will  you  come  this  way,  Mr.  Parr  ?  "  Mr.  Bentley  said, 
indicating  the  door  of  the  bedroom. 

Alison  followed.  Her  eyes,  wet  with  unheeded  tears, 
had  never  left  Mr.  Bentley's  face.  She  put  out  her  hand 
to  him.  .  .  . 

Eldon  Parr  had  halted  abruptly.  He  knew  from  Alison 
the  circumstances  in  which  his  son  had  died,  and  how  he 
had  been  brought  hither  to  this  house,  but  the  sight  of  the 
woman  beside  the  bed  fanned  into  flame  his  fury  against 
a  world  which  had  cheated  him,  by  such  ignominious 


RETRIBUTION  483 

means,  of  his  dearest  wish.  He  grew  white  with  sudden 
passion. 

"  What  is  she  doing  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Kate  Marcy,  who  had  not  seemed  to  hear  his  entrance, 
raised  up  to  him  a  face  from  which  all  fear  had  fled,  a  face 
which,  by  its  suggestive  power,  compelled  him  to  realize 
the  absolute  despair  clutching  now  at  his  own  soul,  and 
against  which  he  was  fighting  wildly,  hopelessly.  It  was 
lying  in  wait  for  him,  with  hideous  patience,  in  the  coming 
watches  of  the  night.  Perhaps  he  read  in  the  face  of  this 
woman  whom  he  had  condemned  to  suffer  all  degradation, 
and  over  whom  he  was  now  powerless,  something  which 
would  ultimately  save  her  from  the  hell  now  yawning  for 
him  ;  a  redeeming  element  in  her  grief  of  which  she  her 
self  were  not  as  yet  conscious,  a  light  shining  in  the  dark 
ness  of  her  soul  which  in  eternity  would  become  luminous. 
And  he  saw  no  light  —  for  him.  He  thrashed  in  darkness. 
.  .  .  He  had  nothing,  now,  to  give,  no  power  longer  to 
deprive.  She  had  given  all  she  possessed,  the  memorial 
of  her  kind  which  would  outlast  monuments. 

It  was  Alison  who  crossed  the  room  swiftly.  She  laid 
her  hand  protectingly  on  Kate  Marcy's  shoulder,  and 
stooped,  and  kissed  her.  She  turned  to  her  father. 

"  It  is  her  right,"  she  said.  "  He  belonged  to  her,  — 
not  to  us.  And  we  must  take  her  home  with  us." 

"  No,"  answered  Kate  Marcy,  "  I  don't  want  to  go.  I 
wouldn't  live,"  she  added  with  unexpected  intensity,  "with 


"  You  would  live  with  me,"  said  Alison. 

"  I  don't  want  to  live  !  "  Kate  Marcy  got  up  from  the 
chair  with  an  energy  they  had  not  thought  her  to  possess, 
a  revival  of  the  spirit  which  had  upheld  her  when  she  had 
contended,  singly,  with  a  remorseless  world.  She  ad 
dressed  herself  to  Eldon  Parr.  "  You  took  him  from  me, 
and  I  was  a  fool  to  let  you.  He  might  have  saved  me 
and  saved  himself.  I  listened  to  you  when  you  told  me 
lies  as  to  how  it  would  ruin  him.  .  .  .  Well,  I  had  him 
—  you  never  did." 

The  sudden,  intolerable  sense  of  wrong  done   to   her 


484  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

love,  the  swift  anger  which  followed  it,  the  justness  of  her 
claim  of  him  who  now  lay  in  the  dignity  of  death  clothed 
her  —  who  in  life  had  been  crushed  and  blotted  out — with 
a  dignity  not  to  be  gainsaid.  In  this  moment  of  final 
self-assertion  she  became  the  dominating  person  in  the 
room,  knew  for  once  the  birthright  of  human  worth. 
They  watched  her  in  silence  as  she  turned  and  gave  one 
last,  lingering  look  at  the  features  of  the  dead,  stretched 
out  her  hand  towards  them,  but  did  not  touch  them  .  .  . 
and  then  went  slowly  towards  the  door.  Beside  Alison 
she  stopped. 

"  You  are  his  sister  ?  "  she  said. 

"Yes." 

She  searched  Alison's  face,  wistfully. 

"  I  could  have  loved  you." 

"And  can  you  not —  still?" 

Kate  Marcy  did  not  answer  the  question. 

"  It  is  because  you  understand,"  she  said.  "  You're  like 
those  I've  come  to  know  —  here.  And  you're  like  him. 
.  .  .  I  don't  mean  in  looks.  He,  too,  was  good  —  and 
square."  She  spoke  the  words  a  little  defiantly,  as  though 
challenging  the  verdict  of  the  world.  "  And  he  wouldn't 
have  been  wild  if  he  could  have  got  going  straight." 

"  I  know,"  said  Alison,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  Kate  Marcy,  "  you  look  as  if  you  did.  He 
thought  a  lot  of  you,  he  said  he  was  only  beginning  to  find 
out  what  you  was.  I'd  like  you  to  think  as  well  of  me  as 
you  can." 

"  I  could  not  think  better,"  Alison  replied. 

Kate  Marcy  shook  her  head. 

"  I  got  about  as  low  as  any  woman  ever  got,"  she  said. 
"  Mr.  Hodder  will  tell  you.  I  want  you  to  know  that  I 
wouldn't  marry  —  your  brother,"  she  hesitated  over  the 
name.  "  He  wanted  me  to  —  he  was  mad  with  me  to-night, 
because  I  wouldn't  —  when  t his  happened." 

She  snatched  her  hand  free  from  Alison's,  and  fled  out 
of  the  room,  into  the  hallway.  .  .  . 

Eldon  Parr  had  moved  towards  the  bed,  seemingly 
unaware  of  the  words  they  had  spoken.  Perhaps,  as  he 


RETRIBUTION  485 

gazed  upon  the  face,  he  remembered  in  his  agony  the  sunny, 
smiling  child  who  used  to  come  hurrying  down  the  steps 
in  Ransome  Street  to  meet  him. 

In  the  library  Mr.  Bentley  and  John  Hodder,  knowing 
nothing  of  her  flight,  heard  the  front  door  close  on  Kate 
Marcy  forever.  .  .  . 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

LIGHT 


Two  days  after  the  funeral,  which  had  taken  place  from 
Calvary,  and  not  from  St.  John's,  Hodder  was  no  little 
astonished  to  receive  a  note  from  Eldon  Parr's  secretary 
requesting  the  rector  to  call  in  Park  Street.  In  the  same 
mail  was  a  letter  from  Alison.  "  I  have  had,"  she  wrote, 
"a  talk  with  my  father.  The  initiative  was  his.  I  should 
not  have  thought  of  speaking  to  him  of  my  affairs  so  soon 
after  Preston's  death.  It  seems  that  he  strongly  suspected 
our  engagement,  which  of  course  I  at  once  acknowledged, 
telling  him  that  it  was  your  intention,  at  the  proper  time, 
to  speak  to  him  yourself. 

"  I  was  surprised  when  he  said  he  would  ask  you  to  call. 
I  confess  that  I  have  not  an  idea  of  what  he  intends  to  say 
to  you,  John,  but  I  trust  you  absolutely,  as  always.  You 
will  find  him,  already,  terribly  changed.  I  cannot  describe 
it  —  you  will  see  for  yourself.  And  it  has  all  seemed  to 
happen  so  suddenly.  As  I  wrote  you,  he  sat  up  both 
nights,  with  Preston  —  he  could  not  be  induced  to  leave 
the  room.  And  after  the  first  night  he  was  different.  He 
has  hardly  spoken  a  word,  except  when  he  sent  for  me  this 
evening,  and  he  eats  nothing.  .  .  .  And  yet,  somehow,  I 
do  not  think  that  this  will  be  the  end.  I  feel  that  he  will 
go  on  living.  .  .  . 

"  I  did  not  realize  how  much  he  still  hoped  about  Pres 
ton.  And  on  Monday,  when  Preston  so  unexpectedly  came 
home,  he  was  happier  than  I  have  known  him  for  years.  It 
was  strange  and  sad  that  he  could  not  see,  as  I  saw,  that 
whatever  will  power  my  brother  had  had  was  gone.  He 

486 


LIGHT  487 

could  not  read  it  in  the  face  of  his  own  son,  who  was  so 
quick  to  detect  it  in  all  others  !  And  then  came  the  trag 
edy.  Oh,  John,  do  you  think  we  shall  ever  find  that  girl 
again  ?  —  I  know  you  are  trying  —  but  we  mustn't  rest 
until  we  do.  Do  you  think  we  ever  shall  ?  I  shall  never 
forgive  myself  for  not  following  her  out  of  the  door,  but 
I  thought  she  had  gone  to  you  and  Mr.  Bentley." 

Hodder  laid  the  letter  down,  and  took  it  up  again.  He 
knew  that  Alison  felt,  as  he  felt,  that  they  never  would 
find  Kate  Marcy.  ...  He  read  on. 

u  My  father  wished  to  speak  to  me  about  the  money. 
He  has  plans  for  much  of  it,  it  appears,  even  now.  Oh, 
John,  he  will  never  understand.  I  want  so  much  to  see 
you,  to  talk  to  you  —  there  are  times  when  I  am  actually 
afraid  to  be  alone,  and  without  you.  If  it  be  weakness  to 
confess  that  I  need  your  reassurance,  your  strength  and 
comfort  constantly,  then  I  am  weak.  I  once  thought  I 
could  stand  alone,  that  I  had  solved  all  problems  for  my 
self,  but  I  know  now  how  foolish  I  was.  I  have  been  face 
to  face  with  such  dreadful,  unimagined  things,  and  in  my 
ignorance  I  did  not  conceive  that  life  held  such  terrors. 
And  when  I  look  at  my  father,  the  thought  of  immortality 
turns  me  faint.  After  you  have  come  here  this  afternoon 
there  can  be  no  longer  any  reason  why  we  should  not  meet, 
and  all  the  world  know  it.  I  will  go  with  you  to  Mr. 
Bentley's. 

"  Of  course  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  refused  to  inherit 
anything.  But  I  believe  I  should  have  consented  if  I 
possibly  could  have  done  so.  It  seemed  so  cruel  —  I  can 
think  of  no  other  word  —  to  have  to  refuse  at  such  a  mo 
ment.  Perhaps  I  have  been  cruel  to  him  all  my  life  —  I 
don't  know.  As  I  look  back  upon  everything,  all  our 
relations,  I  cannot  see  how  I  could  have  been  different. 
He  wouldn't  let  me.  I  still  believe  to  have  stayed  with 
him  would  have  been  a  foolish  and  useless  sacrifice.  .  .  . 
But  he  looked  at  me  so  queerly,  as  though  he,  too,  had 
had  a  glimmering  of  what  we  might  have  been  to  each 
other  after  my  mother  died.  Why  is  life  so  hard  ?  And 
why  are  we  always  getting  glimpses  of  things  when  it  is 


488  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

too  late  ?     It  is  only  honest  to  say  that  if  I  had  it  to  do 
all  over  again,  I  should  have  left  him  as  I  did. 

"  It  is  hard  to  write  you  this,  but  he  actually  made  the 
condition  of  my  acceptance  of  the  inheritance  that  I  should 
not  marry  you.  I  really  do  not  believe  I  convinced  him 
that  you  wouldn't  have  me  take  the  money  under  any  cir 
cumstances.  And  the  dreadful  side  of  it  all  was  that  I 
had  to  make  it  plain  to  him  —  after  what  has  happened  — 
that  my  desire  to  marry  you  wasn't  the  main  reason  of  my 
refusal.  I  had  to  tell  him  that  even  though  you  had  not 
been  in  question,  I  couldn't  have  taken  what  he  wished  to 
give  me,  since  it  had  not  been  honestly  made.  He  asked 
me  why  I  went  on  eating  the  food  bought  with  such  money, 
living  under  his  roof?  But  I  cannot,  I  will  not  leave  him 
just  yet.  ...  It  is  two  o'clock.  I  cannot  write  any  more 
to-night.  ..." 

n 

The  appointed  time  was  at  the  November  dusk,  hurried 
forward  nearly  an  hour  by  the  falling  panoply  of  smoke 
driven  westward  over  the  Park  by  the  wet  east  wind. 
And  the  rector  was  conducted,  with  due  ceremony,  to  the 
office  upstairs  which  he  had  never  again  expected  to  enter, 
where  that  other  memorable  interview  had  taken  place. 
The  curtains  were  drawn.  And  if  the  green-shaded  lamp 
—  the  only  light  in  the  room  —  had  been  arranged  by  a 
master  of  dramatic  effect,  it  could  not  have  better  served 
the  setting. 

In  spite  of  Alison's  letter,  Hodder  was  unprepared  for 
the  ravages  a  few  days  had  made  in  the  face  of  Eldon 
Parr.  Not  that  he  appeared  older :  the  impression  was 
less  natural,  more  sinister.  The  skin  had  drawn  sharply 
over  the  cheek-bones,  and  strangely  the  eyes  both  contra 
dicted  and  harmonized  with  the  transformation  of  the 
features.  These,  too,  had  changed.  They  were  not  dead 
and  lustreless,  but  gleamed  out  of  the  shadowy  caverns 
into  which  they  had  sunk,  unyielding,  indomitable  in  tor 
ment,  —  eyes  of  a  spirit  rebellious  in  the  flames.  .  .  . 

This  spirit  somehow  produced  the  sensation  of  its  being 


LIGHT  489 

separated  from  the  body,  for  the  movement  of  the  hand, 
inviting  Hodder  to  seat  himself,  seemed  almost  automatic. 

"  I  understand,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  "  that  you  wish  to 
marry  my  daughter." 

"It  is  true  that  I  am  to  marry  Alison,"  Hodder  an 
swered,  uand  that  I  intended,  later  on,  to  come  to  inform 
you  of  the  fact." 

He  did  not  mention  the  death  of  Preston.  Condolences, 
under  the  circumstances,  were  utterly  out  of  the  question. 

"  How  do  you  propose  to  support  her  ? "  the  banker 
demanded. 

"  She  is  of  age,  and  independent  of  you.  You  will  par 
don  me  if  I  reply  that  this  is  a  matter  between  ourselves," 
Hodder  said. 

"  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  the  day  she  married  you 
I  would  not  only  disinherit  her,  but  refuse  absolutely  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  her." 

"  If  you  cannot  perceive  what  she  perceives,  that  you  have 
already  by  your  own  life  cut  her  off  from  you  absolutely 
and  that  seeing  her  will  not  mend  matters  while  you 
remain  relentless,  nothing  I  can  say  will  convince  you." 
Hodder  did  not  speak  rebukingly.  The  utter  uselessness 
of  it  was  never  more  apparent.  The  man  was  condemned 
beyond  all  present  reprieve,  at  least. 

"  She  left  me,"  exclaimed  Eldon  Parr,  bitterly. 

"She  left  you,  to  save  herself." 

"We  need  not  discuss  that." 

"  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  discuss  it,"  Hodder  replied. 
"  I  do  not  know  why  you  have  asked  me  to  come  here, 
Mr.  Parr.  It  is  clear  that  your  attitude  has  not  changed 
since  our  last  conversation.  I  tried  to  make  it  plain  to 
you  why  the  church  could  not  accept  your  money.  Your 
own  daughter  cannot  accept  it." 

"  There  was  a  time,"  retorted  the  banker,  "  when  you 
did  not  refuse  to  accept  it." 

"  Yes,"  Hodder  replied,  "  that  is  true."  It  came  to  him 
vividly  then  that  it  had  been  Alison  herself  who  had  cast 
the  enlightening  gleam  which  revealed  his  inconsistency. 
But  he  did  not  defend  himself. 


490  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  I  can  see  nothing  in  all  this,  Mr.  Hodder,  but  a  species 
of  insanity,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  and  there  crept  into  his  tone 
both  querulousness  and  intense  exasperation.  "  In  the 
first  place,  you  insist  upon  marrying  my  daughter  when 
neither  she  nor  you  have  any  dependable  means  of  support. 
She  never  spared  her  criticisms  of  me,  and  you  presume 
to  condemn  me,  a  man  who,  if  he  has  neglected  his  chil 
dren,  has  done  so  because  he  has  spent  too  much  of  his  time 
in  serving  his  community  and  his  country,  and  who  has — • 
if  I  have  to  say  it  myself  —  built  up  the  prosperity  which 
you  and  others  are  doing  your  best  to  tear  down,  and 
which  can  only  result  in  the  spread  of  misery.  You  pro 
fess  to  have  a  sympathy  with  the  masses,  but  you  do  not 
know  them  as  I  do.  They  cannot  control  themselves, 
they  require  a  strong  hand.  But  I  am  not  asking  for 
your  sympathy.  I  have  been  misunderstood  all  my  life, 
I  have  become  used  to  ingratitude,  even  from  my  children, 
and  from  the  rector  of  the  church  for  which  I  have  done 
more  than  any  other  man." 

Hodder  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  You  really  believe  that !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Believe  it ! "  Eldon  Parr  repeated.  "  I  have  had  my 
troubles,  as  heavy  bereavements  as  a  man  can  have.  All 
of  them,  even  this  of  my  son's  death,  all  the  ingratitude 
and  lack  of  sympathy  I  have  experienced  —  "  (he  looked 
deliberately  at  Hodder)  "  have  not  prevented  me,  do  not 
prevent  me  to-day  from  regarding  my  fortune  as  a  trust. 
You  have  deprived  St.  John's,  at  least  so  long  as  you 
remain  there,  of  some  of  its  benefits,  and  the  responsibility 
for  that  is  on  your  own  head.  And  I  am  now  making  ar 
rangements  to  give  to  Calvary  the  settlement  house  which 
St.  John's  should  have  had." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  such  an  air  of  conviction,  of 
unconscious  plausibility,  as  it  were,  that  it  was  impossible 
for  Hodder  to  doubt  the  genuineness  of  the  attitude  they 
expressed.  And  yet  it  was  more  than  his  mind  could 
grasp.  .  .  .  Horace  Bentley,  Richard  Garvin,  and  the 
miserable  woman  of  the  streets  whom  he  had  driven  to 
destroy  herself  had  made  absolutely  no  impression  what- 


LIGHT  491 

ever  !  The  gifts,  the  benefactions  of  Eldon  Parr  to  his 
fellow-men  would  go  on  as  before  I 

"  You  ask  me  why  I  sent  for  you,"  the  banker  went  on. 
"  It  was  primarily  because  I  hoped  to  impress  upon  you 
the  folly  of  marrying  my  daughter.  And  in  spite  of  all 
the  injury  and  injustice  you  have  done  me,  I  do  not  for 
get  that  you  were  once  in  a  relationship  to  me  which  has 
been  unique  in  my  life.  I  trusted  you,  I  admired  you  for 
your  ability,  for  your  faculty  of  getting  on  with  men. 
At  that  time  you  were  wise  enough  not  to  attempt  to  pass 
comment  upon  accidents  in  business  affairs  which  are,  if 
deplorable,  inevitable." 

Eldon  Parr's  voice  gave  a  momentary  sign  of  breaking. 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  My  son's  death  has  led  me, 
perhaps  weakly,  to  make  one  more  appeal.  You  have 
ruined  your  career  by  these  chimerical,  socialistic  notions 
you  have  taken  up,  and  which  you  mistake  for  Christianity. 
As  a  practical  man  I  can  tell  you,  positively,  that  St. 
John's  will  run  downhill  until  you  are  bankrupt.  The 
people  who  come  to  you  now  are  in  search  of  a  new  sensa 
tion,  and  when  that  grows  stale  they  will  fall  away.  Even 
if  a  respectable  number  remain  in  your  congregation,  after 
this  excitement  and  publicity  have  died  down,  I  have 
reason  to  know  that  it  is  impossible  to  support  a  large 
city  church  on  contributions.  It  has  been  tried  again  and 
again,  and  failed.  You  have  borrowed  money  for  the 
Church's  present  needs.  When  that  is  gone  I  predict 
that  you  will  find  it  difficult  to  get  more." 

This  had  every  indication  of  being  a  threat,  but  Hodder, 
out  of  sheer  curiosity,  did  not  interrupt.  And  it  was 
evident  that  the  banker  drew  a  wrong  conclusion  from 
his  silence,  which  he  may  actually  have  taken  for  reluc 
tant  acquiescence.  His  tone  grew  more  assertive. 

"  The  Church,  Mr.  Hodder,  cannot  do  without  the  sub 
stantial  business  men.  I  have  told  the  bishop  so,  but  he 
is  failing  so  rapidly  from  old  age  that  I  might  as  well  not 
have  wasted  my  breath.  He  needs  an  assistant,  a  suffragan 
or  coadjutor,  and  I  intend  to  make  it  my  affair  to  see 
that  he  gets  one.  When  I  remember  him  as  he  was  ten 


492  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

years  ago,  I  find  it  hard  to  believe  that  he  is  touched  with 
these  fancies.  To  be  charitable,  it  is  senile  decay.  He 
seems  to  forget  what  I  have  done  for  him,  personally, — 
made  up  his  salary,  paid  his  expenses  at  different  times, 
and  no  appeal  for  the  diocese  to  me  was  ever  in  vain. 
But  again,  I  will  let  that  go. 

"  What  I  am  getting  at  is  this.  You  have  made  a  mess 
of  the  affairs  of  St.  John's,  you  have  made  a  mess  of  your 
life.  I  am  willing  to  give  you  the  credit  for  sincerity. 
Some  of  my  friends  might  not  be.  You  want  to  marry 
my  daughter,  and  she  is  apparently  determined  to  marry 
you.  If  you  are  sensible  and  resign  from  St.  John's  now 
I  will  settle  on  Alison  a  sufficient  sum  to  allow  you  both 
to  live  in  comfort  and  decency  the  rest  of  your  lives. 
I  will  not  have  it  said  of  me  that  I  permitted  my  daughter 
to  become  destitute." 

After  he  had  finished,  the  rector  sat  for  so  long  a  time 
that  the  banker  nervously  shifted  in  his  chair.  The  clergy 
man's  look  had  a  cumulative  quality,  an  intensity  which 
seemed  to  increase  as  the  silence  continued.  There  was 
no  anger  in  it,  no  fanaticism.  On  the  contrary,  the  higher 
sanity  of  it  was  disturbing  ;  and  its  extraordinary  implica 
tion —  gradually  borne  in  upon  Eldon  Parr  —  was  that  he 
himself  were  not  in  his  right  mind.  The  words,  when  they 
came,  were  a  confirmation  of  this  inference. 

"  It  is  what  I  feared,  Mr.  Parr,"  he  said.  "  You  are  as 
yet  incapable  of  comprehending." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  banker,  jerking  his 
hand  from  the  table. 

The  rector  shook  his  head. 

"  If  this  great  chastisement  with  which  you  have  been 
visited  has  given  you  no  hint  of  the  true  meaning  of  life, 
nothing  I  can  say  will  avail.  If  you  will  not  yet  listen 
to  the  Spirit  which  is  trying  to  make  you  comprehend, 
how  then  will  you  listen  to  me  ?  How  am  I  to  open  your 
eyes  to  the  paradox  of  truth,  that  he  who  would  save  his 
life  shall  lose  it,  that  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through 
the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
Kingdom  of  God  ?  If  you  will  not  believe  him  who  said 


LIGHT  493 

that,  you  will  not  believe  me.  I  can  only  beg  of  you, 
strive  to  understand,  that  your  heart  may  be  softened, 
that  your  suffering  soul  may  be  released." 

It  is  to  be  recorded,  strangely,  that  Eldon  Parr  did  hot 
grow  angry  in  his  turn.  The  burning  eyes  looked  out  at 
Hodder  curiously,  as  at  a  being  upon  whom  the  vials  of 
wrath  were  somehow  wasted,  against  whom  the  weapons 
of  power  were  of  no  account.  The  fanatic  had  become  a 
phenomenon  which  had  momentarily  stilled  passion  to 
arouse  interest.  ...  "  Art  thou  a  master  of  Israel,  and 
knowest  not  these  things  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  to  say"  —  such  was  the  question  that 
sprang  to  Eldon  Parr's  lips  —  "  that  you  take  the  Bible 
literally  ?  What  is  your  point  of  view  ?  You  speak  about 
the  salvation  of  souls,  —  I  have  heard  that  kind  of  talk  all 
my  life.  And  it  is  easy,  I  find,  for  men  who  have  never 
known  the  responsibilities  of  wealth  to  criticize  and  advise. 
I  regard  indiscriminate  giving  as  nothing  less  than  a  crime, 
and  I  have  always  tried  to  be  painstaking  and  judicious. 
If  I  had  taken  the  words  you  quoted  at  their  face  value,  I 
should  have  no  wealth  to  distribute  to-day. 

"  I,  too,  Mr.  Hodder,  odd  as  it  may  seem  to  you,  have 
had  my  dreams  of  doing  my  share  of  making  this  country 
the  best  place  in  the  world  to  live  in.  It  has  pleased 
Providence  to  take  away  my  son.  He  was  not  fitted  to 
carry  on  my  work,  —  that  is  the  way  with  dreams.  I  was 
to  have  taught  him  to  build  up,  and  to  give,  as  I  have 
given.  You  think  me  embittered,  hard,  because  I  seek  to 
do  good,  to  interpret  the  Gospel  in  my  own  way.  Before 
this  year  is  out  I  shall  have  retired  from  all  active  business, 
and  I  intend  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  in  giving  away 
the  money  I  have  earned  —  all  of  it.  I  do  not  intend  to 
spare  myself,  and  giving  will  be  harder  than  earning. 
I  shall  found  institutions  for  research  of  disease,  hospi 
tals,  playgrounds,  libraries,  and  schools.  And  I  shall  make 
the  university  here  one  of  the  best  in  the  country.  What 
more,  may  I  ask,  would  you  have  me  do  ?  " 

"Ah,"  replied  the  rector,  "it  is  not  what  I  would  have  you 
do.  It  is  not,  indeed,  a  question  of  4  doing,'  but  of  seeing." 


494  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

"  Of  seeing  ?  "  the  banker  repeated.  "  As  I  say,  of  using 
judgment." 

"  Judgment,  yes,  but  the  judgment  which  has  not  yet 
dawned  for  you,  the  enlightenment  which  is  the  knowledge 
of  God's  will.  Wordly  wisdom  is  a  rule  of  thumb  many 
men  may  acquire,  the  other  wisdom,  the  wisdom  of  the 
soul,  is  personal  —  the  reward  of  revelation  which  springs 
from  desire.  You  ask  me  what  I  think  you  should  do. 
I  will  tell  you — but  you  will  not  do  it,  you  will  be  power 
less  to  do  it  unless  you  see  it  for  yourself,  unless  the  time 
shall  come  when  you  are  willing  to  give  up  everything  you 
have  held  dear  in  life, — not  your  money,  but  your  opinions, 
the  very  judgment  and  wisdom  you  value,  until  you  have 
gained  the  faith  which  proclaims  these  worthless,  until  you 
are  ready  to  receive  the  Kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child. 
You  are  not  ready,  now.  Your  attitude,  your  very  words, 
proclaim  your  blindness  to  all  that  has  happened  you, 
your  determination  to  carry  out,  so  far  as  it  is  left  to  you, 
your  own  will.  You  may  die  without  seeing." 

Crazy  as  it  all  sounded,  a  slight  tremor  shook  Eldon 
Parr.  There  was  something  in  the  eyes,  in  the  powerful 
features  of  the  clergyman  that  kept  him  still,  that  made 
him  listen  with  a  fascination  which  —  had  he  taken  cog 
nizance  of  it  —  was  akin  to  fear.  That  this  man  believed 
it,  that  he  would  impress  it  upon  others,  nay,  had  already 
done  so,  the  banker  did  not  then  doubt. 

"  You  speak  of  giving,"  Hodder  continued,  "  and  you  have 
nothing  to  give  —  nothing.  You  are  poorer  to-day  than 
the  humblest  man  who  has  seen  God.  But  you  have 
much,  you  have  all  to  restore."  Without  raising  his  voice, 
the  rector  had  contrived  to  put  a  mighty  emphasis  on  the 
word.  "  You  speak  of  the  labour  of  giving,  but  if  you  seek 
your  God  and  haply  find  him  you  will  not  rest  night  or 
day  while  you  live  until  you  have  restored  every  dollar  pos 
sible  of  that  which  you  have  wrongfully  taken  from  others." 

John  Hodder  rose  and  raised  his  arm  in  effective  protest 
against  the  interruption  Eldon  Parr  was  about  to  make. 
He  bore  him  down. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say,  Mr.   Parr,  —  that 


LIGHT  495 

it  is  not  practical.  That  word  '  practical '  is  the  barrier 
between  you  and  your  God.  I  tell  you  that  God  can  make 
anything  practical.  Your  conscience,  the  spirit,  tortures 
you  to-day,  but  you  have  not  had  enough  torture,  you  still 
think  to  escape  easily,  to  keep  the  sympathy  of  a  world 
which  despises  you.  You  are  afraid  to  do  what  God  would 
have  you  do.  You  have  the  opportunity,  through  grace, 
by  your  example  to  leave  the  world  better  than  you  found 
it,  to  do  a  thing  of  such  magnitude  as  is  given  to  few  men, 
to  confess  before  all  that  your  life  has  been  blind  and 
wicked.  That  is  what  the  Spirit  is  trying  to  teach  you. 
But  you  fear  the  ridicule  of  the  other  blind  men,  you  have 
not  the  faith  to  believe  that  many  eyes  would  be  opened 
by  your  act.  The  very  shame  of  such  a  confession,  you 
think,  is  not  to  be  borne." 

"Suppose  I  acknowledge,  which  I  do  not,  your  pre 
posterous  charge,  how  would  you  propose  to  do  this 
thing?" 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  said  the  rector,  "so  far  as  the  actual 
method  of  procedure  goes.  You  have  only  to  establish  a 
board  of  men  in  whom  you  have  confidence,  —  a  court  of 
claims,  so  to  speak,  —  to  pass  upon  the  validity  of  every 
application,  not  from  a  business  standpoint  alone,  but 
from  one  of  a  broad  justice  and  equity.  And  not  only 
that.  I  should  have  it  an  important  part  of  the  duties  of 
this  board  to  discover  for  themselves  other  claimants  who 
may  not,  for  various  reasons,  come  forward.  In  the  case 
of  the  Consolidated  Tractions,  for  instance,  there  are 
doubtless  many  men  like  Garvin  who  invested  their  sav 
ings  largely  on  the  strength  of  your  name.  You  cannot 
bring  him  back  to  life,  restore  him  to  his  family  as  he  was 
before  you  embittered  him,  but  it  would  be  a  compara 
tively  easy  matter  to  return  to  his  widow,  with  compound 
interest,  the  sum  which  he  invested." 

"  For  the  sake  of  argument,"  said  Eldon  Parr,  "  what 
would  you  do  with  the  innumerable  impostors  who  would 
overwhelm  such  a  board  with  claims  that  they  had  bought 
and  sold  stock  at  a  loss?  And  that  is  only  one  case  I 
could  mention." 


496  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

"  Would  it  be  so  dreadful  a  thing,"  asked  Hodder,  "  to 
run  the  risk  of  making  a  few  mistakes?  It  would  not  be 
business,  you  say.  If  you  had  the  desire  to  do  this,  you 
would  dismiss  such  an  obsession  from  your  brain,  you 
would  prefer  to  err  on  the  side  of  justice  and  mercy. 
And  no  matter  how  able  your  board,  in  making  restitution 
you  could  at  best  expect  to  mend  only  a  fraction  of  the 
wrongs  you  have  done." 

"  I  shall  waive,  for  the  moment,  my  contention  that  the 
Consolidated  Tractions  Company,  had  it  succeeded,  would 
greatly  have  benefited  the  city.  Even  if  it  had  been  the 
iniquitous,  piratical  transaction  you  suggest,  why  should  I 
assume  the  responsibility  for  all  who  were  concerned  in  it  ?  " 

"  If  the  grace  were  given  you  to  do  this,  that  question 
would  answer  itself,"  the  rector  replied.  "The  awful 
sense  of  responsibility,  which  you  now  lack,  would  over 
whelm  you." 

"  You  have  made  me  out  a  rascal  and  a  charlatan,"  said 
Eldon  Parr,  "  and  I  have  listened  patiently  in  my  desire 
to  be  fair,  to  learn  from  your  own  lips  whether  there  were 
anything  in  the  extraordinary  philosophy  you  have  taken 
up,  and  which  you  are  pleased  to  call  Christianity.  If 
you  will  permit  me  to  be  as  frank  as  you  have  been,  it 
appears  to  me  as  sheer  nonsense  and  folly,  and  if  it  were 
put  into  practice  the  world  would  be  reduced  at  once  to 
chaos  and  anarchy." 

"  There  is  no  danger,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  of  its  being  put 
into  practice  at  once,"  said  Hodder,  smiling  sadly. 

"  I  hope  not,"  answered  the  banker,  dryly.  "  Utopia  is 
a  dream  in  which  those  who  do  the  rough  work  of  the 
world  cannot  afford  to  indulge.  And  there  is  one  more 
question.  You  will,  no  doubt,  deride  it  as  practical,  but 
to  my  mind  it  is  very  much  to  the  point.  You  condemn 
the  business  practices  in  which  I  have  engaged  all  my  life 
as  utterly  unchristian.  If  you  are  logical,  you  will  admit 
that  no  man  or  woman  who  owns  stock  in  a  modern  cor 
poration  is,  according  to  your  definition,  Christian,  and,  to 
use  your  own  phrase,  can  enter  the  Kingdom  of  God.  I 
can  tell  you,  as  one  who  knows,  that  there  is  no  corpora- 


LIGHT  497 

tion  in  this  country  which,  in  the  struggle  to  maintain  it 
self,  is  not  forced  to  adopt  the  natural  law  of  the  survival 
of  the  fittest,  which  you  condemn.  Your  own  salary, 
while  you  had  it,  came  from  men  who  had  made  the  money 
in  corporations.  Business  is  business,  and  admits  of  no 
sentimental  considerations.  If  you  can  get  around  that 
fact,  I  will  gladly  bow  to  your  genius.  Should  you  suc 
ceed  in  reestablishing  St.  John's  on  what  you  call  a  free 
basis  —  and  in  my  opinion  you  will  not  —  even  then  the 
money  you  would  live  on,  and  which  supported  the  church, 
would  be  directly  or  indirectly  derived  from  corporations." 

"  I  do  not  propose  to  enter  into  an  economic  argument 
with  you,  Mr.  Parr,  but  if  you  tell  me  that  the  flagrant 
practices  indulged  in  by  those  who  organized  the  Consoli 
dated  Tractions  Company  can  be  excused  under  any  code 
of  morals,  any  conception  of  Christianity,  I  tell  you  they 
cannot.  What  do  we  see  to-day  in  your  business  world  ? 
Boards  of  directors,  trusted  by  stockholders,  betraying 
their  trust,  withholding  information  in  order  to  profit 
thereby,  buying  and  selling  stock  secretly;  stock  water 
ing,  selling  to  the  public  diluted  values,  —  all  kinds  of 
iniquity  and  abuse  of  power  which  I  need  not  go  into. 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  on  the  plea  that  business  is  busi 
ness  and  hence  a  department  by  itself,  that  deception, 
cheating,  and  stealing  are  justified  and  necessary  ?  The 
awakened  conscience  of  the  public  is  condemning  you. 

"The  time  is  at  hand,  though  neither  you  nor  I  may 
live  to  see  it,  when  the  public  conscience  itself  is  beginning 
to  perceive  this  higher  justice  hidden  from  you.  And 
you  are  attempting  to  mislead  when  you  do  not  distinguish 
between  the  men  who,  for  their  own  gain  and  power,  mis 
manage  such  corporations  as  are  mismanaged,  and  those 
who  own  stock  and  are  misled. 

"  The  public  conscience  of  which  I  speak  is  the  leaven 
of  Christianity  at  work.  And  we  must  be  content  to 
work  with  it,  to  await  its  fulfilment,  to  realize  that  no 
one  of  us  can  change  the  world,  but  can  only  do  his  part 
in  making  it  better.  The  least  we  can  do  is  to  refuse  to 
indulge  in  practices  which  jeopardize  our  own  souls,  to 

2K 


498  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

remain  poor  if  we  cannot  make  wealth  honestly.  Saj 
what  you  will,  the  Christian  government  we  are  approach 
ing  will  not  recognize  property,  because  it  is  gradually 
becoming  clear  that  the  holding  of  property  delays  the 
Kingdom  at  which  you  scoff,  giving  the  man  who  owns  it 
a  power  over  the  body  of  the  man  who  does  not.  Prop 
erty  produces  slavery,  since  it  compels  those  who  have 
none  to  work  for  those  who  have. 

"  The  possession  of  property,  or  of  sufficient  property 
to  give  one  individual  an  advantage  over  his  fellows  is 
inconsistent  with  Christianity.  Hence  it  will  be  done 
away  with,  but  only  when  enough  have  been  emancipated 
to  carry  this  into  effect.  Hence  the  saying  of  our  Lord 
about  the  needle's  eye  —  the  danger  to  the  soul  of  him 
who  owns  much  property." 

"  And  how  about  your  Christian  view  of  the  world  as  a 
vale  of  tears  ?  "  Eldon  Parr  inquired. 

"  So  long  as  humanity  exists,  there  will  always  be  tears," 
.admitted  the  rector.  "  But  it  is  a  false  Christianity  which 
does  not  bid  us  work  for  our  fellow-men,  to  relieve  their 
suffering  and  make  the  world  brighter.  It  is  becoming 
clear  that  the  way  to  do  this  effectively  is  through  commu 
nities,  cooperation,  — through  nations,  and  not  individuals. 
And  this,  if  you  like,  is  practical,  —  so  practical  that  the 
men  like  you,  who  have  gained  unexampled  privilege,  fear 
it  more  and  more.  The  old  Christian  misconception,  that 
the  world  is  essentially  a  bad  place,  and  which  has  served 
the  ends  of  your  privilege,  is  going  by  forever.  And  the 
motto  of  the  citizens  of  the  future  will  be  the  Christian 
motto,  "  I  am  my  brother's  keeper."  The  world  is  a  good 
place  because  the  Spirit  is  continually  working  in  it,  to 
make  it  better.  And  life  is  good,  if  only  we  take  the 
right  view  of  it,  —  the  revealed  view." 

"  What  you  say  is  all  very  fine,"  said  Eldon  Parr. 
"  And  I  have  heard  it  before,  from  the  discontented,  the 
socialists.  But  it  does  not  take  into  account  the  one 
essential  element,  human  nature." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  your  scheme  of  life  fails  to  reckon 
with  the  greater  factor,  divine  nature,"  Hodder  replied. 


LIGHT  499 

"  When  you  have  lived  as  long  as  I  have,  perhaps  you 
will  think  differently,  Mr.  Hodder."  Eldon  Parr's  voice 
had  abruptly  grown  metallic,  as  though  the  full  realization 
had  come  over  him  of  the  severity  of  the  clergyman's 
arraignment;  the  audacity  of  the  man  who  had  ventured 
to  oppose  him  and  momentarily  defeated  him,  who  had 
won  the  allegiance  of  his  own  daughter,  who  had  dared 
condemn  him  as  an  evil-doer  and  give  advice  as  to  his 
future  course.  He,  Eldon  Parr,  who  had  been  used  to 
settle  the  destinies  of  men!  His  anger  was  suddenly  at 
white  heat;  and  his  voice,  which  he  strove  to  control,  be 
trayed  it. 

"  Since  you  have  rejected  my  offer,  which  was  made  in 
kindness,  since  you  are  bent  on  ruining  my  daughter's 
life  as  well  as  your  own,  and  she  has  disregarded  my 
wishes,  I  refuse  to  see  either  of  you,  no  matter  to  what 
straits  you  may  come,  as  long  as  I  live.  That  is  under 
stood.  And  she  leaves  this  house  to-day,  never  to  enter 
it  again.  It  is  useless  to  prolong  this  conversation,  I 
think." 

"  Quite  useless,  as  I  feared,  Mr.  Parr.  Do  you  know 
why  Alison  is  willing  to  marry  me  ?  It  is  because  the 
strength  has  been  given  me  to  oppose  you  in  the  name  of 
humanity,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  her  love  for 
you  to-day  is  greater  than  it  has  ever  been  before.  It  is 
a  part  of  the  heavy  punishment  you  have  inflicted  on 
yourself  that  you  cannot  believe  in  her  purity.  You  in 
sist  on  thinking  that  the  time  will  come  when  she  will 
return  to  you  for  help.  In  senseless  anger  and  pride  you 
are  driving  her  away  from  you  whom  you  will  some  day 
need.  And  in  that  day,  should  God  grant  you  a  relenting 
heart  to  make  the  sign,  she  will  come  to  you,  —  but  to 
give  comfort,  not  to  receive  it.  And  even  as  you  have 
threatened  me,  I  will  warn  you,  yet  not  in  anger.  Except 
a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see  the  Kingdom  of  God, 
nor  understand  the  motives  of  those  who  would  enter  into 
it.  Seek  and  pray  for  repentance." 

Infuriated  though  he  was,  before  the  commanding  yet 
compassionate  bearing  of  the  rector  he  remained  speech- 


500  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

less.     And   after  a  moment's  pause,  Hodder  turned  and 
left  the  room.  .  .  . 

m 

When  Hodder  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  Alison 
came  out  to  him.  The  mourning  she  wore  made  her  seem 
even  taller.  In  the  face  upturned  to  his,  framed  in  the 
black  veil  and  paler  than  he  had  known  it,  were  traces  of 
tears;  in  the  eyes  a  sad,  yet  questioning  and  trustful 
smile.  They  gazed  at  each  other  an  instant,  before 
speaking,  in  the  luminous  ecstasy  of  perfect  communion 
which  shone  for  them,  undimmed,  in  the  surrounding 
gloom  of  tragedy.  And  thus,  they  felt,  it  would  always 
shine.  Of  that  tragedy  of  the  world's  sin  and  sorrow  they 
would  ever  be  conscious.  Without  darkness  there  could 
be  no  light. 

"  I  knew,"  she  said,  reading  his  tidings,  "  it  would  be 
of  no  use.  Tell  me  the  worst." 

"  If  you  marry  me,  Alison,  your  father  refuses  to  see 
you  again.  He  insists  that  you  leave  the  house." 

44  Then  why  did  he  wish  to  see  you  ?  " 

44  It  was  to  make  an  appeal.  He  thinks,  of  course,  that 
I  have  made  a  failure  of  life,  and  that  if  I  marry  you  I 
shall  drag  you  down  to  poverty  and  disgrace." 

She  raised  her  head,  proudly. 

44  But  he  knows  that  it  is  I  who  insist  upon  marrying 
you!  I  explained  it  all  to  him  —  how  I  had  asked  you. 
Of  course  he  did  not  understand.  He  thinks,  I  suppose, 
that  it  is  simply  an  infatuation." 

In  spite  of  the  solemnity  of  the  moment,  Hodder  smiled 
down  at  her,  touched  by  the  confession. 

44  That,  my  dear,  doesn't  relieve  me  of  responsibility. 
I  am  just  as  responsible  as  though  I  had  spoken  first,  in 
stead  of  you." 

"  But,  John,  you  didn't ?  "  A  sudden  fear  made  her 

silent. 

He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  reassuringly. 

4'  Give  you  up  ?  No,  Alison,"  he  answered  simply. 
44  When  you  came  to  me,  God  put  you  in  my  keeping." 


LIGHT  501 

She  clung  to  him  suddenly,  in  a  passion  of  relief. 

"  Oh,  I  never  could  give  you  up,  I  never  would  unless 
you  yourself  told  me  to.  Then  I  would  do  it,  —  for  you. 
But  you  won't  ask  me,  now  ?  " 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  shoulders,  and  the  strength 
of  it  seemed  to  calm  her. 

"No,  dear.  I  would  make  the  sacrifice,  ask  you  to 
make  it,  if  it  would  be  of  any  good.  As  you  say,  he  does 
not  understand.  And  you  couldn't  go  on  living  with 
him  and  loving  me.  That  solution  is  impossible.  We 
can  only  hope  that  the  time  will  come  when  he  will 
realize  his  need  of  you,  and  send  for  you." 

"  And  did  he  not  ask  you  anything  more  ?  " 

Hodder  hesitated.  He  had  intended  to  spare  her 
that.  .  .  .  Her  divination  startled  him. 

"  I  know,  I  know  without  your  telling  me.  He  offered 
you  money,  he  consented  to  our  marriage  if  you  would 
give  up  St.  John's.  Oh,  how  could  he! "  she  cried. 
"How  could  he  so  misjudge  and  insult  you!  " 

"It  is  not  me  he  misjudges,  Alison,  it  is  mankind, — 
it  is  God.  That  is  his  terrible  misfortune."  Hodder 
released  her  tenderly.  "  You  must  see  him  —  you  must  tell 
him  that  when  he  needs  you,  you  will  come." 

"  I  will  see  him  now,"  she  said.  "  You  will  wait  for 
me?" 

"Now?"  he  repeated,  taken  aback  by  her  resolution, 
though  it  was  characteristic. 

"  Yes,  I  will  go  as  I  am.  I  can  send  for  my  things. 
My  father  has  given  me  no  choice,  no  reprieve,  —  not  that 
I  wish  one.  I  have  you,  dear.  I  will  stay  with  Mr. 
Bentley  to-night,  and  leave  for  New  York  to-morrow,  to 
do  what  I  have  to  do  —  and  then  you  will  be  ready  for 
me." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  be  ready." 

He  lingered  in  the  well-remembered  hall.  .  .  .  And 
when  at  last  she  came  down  again  her  eyes  shone  bravely 
through  her  tears,  her  look  answered  the  question  of  his 
own.  There  was  no  need  for  speech.  With  not  so  much 
as  a  look  behind  she  left,  with  him,  her  father's  house. 


502  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

Outside,  the  mist  had  become  a  drizzle,  and  as  they 
went  down  the  walk  together  beside  the  driveway  she 
slipped  her  arm  into  his,  pressing  close  to  his  side.  Her 
intuition  was  perfect,  the  courage  of  her  love  sublime. 

"  I  have  you,  dear,"  she  whispered,  "  never  in  my  life 
before  have  I  been  rich." 

"Alison!  " 

It  was  all  he  could  say,  but  the  intensity  of  his  mingled 
feeling  went  into  the  syllables  of  her  name.  An  impulse 
made  them  pause  and  turn,  and  they  stood  looking  back 
together  at  the  great  house  which  loomed  the  greater  in 
the  thickening  darkness,  its  windows  edged  with  glow. 
Never,  as  in  this  moment  when  the  cold  rain  wet  their 
faces,  had  the  thought  of  its  comfort  and  warmth  and 
luxury  struck  him  so  vividly;  yes,  and  of  its  terror  and 
loneliness  now,  of  the  tortured  spirit  in  it  that  found  no 
rest. 

"  Oh,  John,"  she  cried,  "  if  we  only  could  !  " 

He  understood  her.  Such  was  the  perfect  quality  of 
their  sympathy  that  she  had  voiced  his  thought.  What 
were  rain  and  cold,  the  inclemency  of  the  elements  to 
them  ?  What  the  beauty  and  the  warmth  of  those  great, 
empty  rooms  to  Eldon  Parr  ?  Out  of  the  heaven  of  their 
happiness  they  looked  down,  helpless,  into  the  horrors 
of  the  luxury  of  hell. 

"It  must  be,"  he  answered  her,  "  in  God's  good  time." 

"  Life  is  terrible!  "  she  said.  "  Think  of  what  he  must 
have  done  to  suffer  so,  to  be  condemned  to  this!  And 
when  I  went  to  him,  just  now,  he  wouldn't  even  kiss  me 
good-by.  Oh,  my  dear,  if  I  hadn't  had  you  to  take  me, 
what  should  I  have  done?  ...  It  never  was  a  home 
to  me  —  to  any  of  us.  And  as  I  look  back  now,  all  the 
troubles  began  when  we  moved  into  it.  I  can  only  think 
of  it  as  a  huge  prison,  all  the  more  sinister  for  its  cost 
liness." 

A  prison!  It  had  once  been  his  own  conceit.  He  drew 
her  gently  away,  and  they  walked  together  along  Park 
Street  towards  the  distant  arc-light  at  the  corner  which 
flung  a  gleaming  band  along  the  wet  pavement. 


LIGHT  503 

"  Perhaps  it  was  because  I  was  too  young  to  know 
what  trouble  was  when  we  lived  in  Ransoine  Street," 
she  continued.  "  But  I  can  remember  now  how  sad  my 
mother  was  at  times  —  it  almost  seemed  as  though  she 
had  a  premonition."  Alison's  voice  caught.  .  .  . 

The  car  which  came  roaring  through  the  darkness,  and 
which  stopped  protestingly  at  their  corner,  was  ablaze 
with  electricity,  almost  filled  with  passengers.  A  young 
man  with  a  bundle  changed  his  place  in  order  that  they 
might  sit  together  in  one  of  the  little  benches  bordering 
the  aisle;  opposite  them  was  a  laughing,  clay-soiled  group 
of  labourers  going  home  from  work;  in  front,  a  young 
couple  with  a  chubby  child.  He  stood  between  his 
parents,  facing  about,  gazing  in  unembarrassed  wonder 
at  the  dark  lady  with  the  veil.  Alison's  smile  seemed 
only  to  increase  the  solemnity  of  his  adoration,  and  pres 
ently  he  attempted  to  climb  over  the  barrier  between 
them.  Hodder  caught  him,  and  the  mother  turned  in 
alarm,  recapturing  him. 

"  You  mustn't  bother  the  lady,  Jimmy,"  she  said,  when 
she  had  thanked  the  rector.  She  had  dimpled  cheeks  and 
sparkling  blue  eyes,  but  their  expression  changed  as  they 
fell  on  Alison's  face,  expressing  something  of  the  wonder 
of  the  child's. 

"  Oh,  he  isn't  bothering  me,"  Alison  protested.  "  Do 
let  him  stand." 

"  He  don't  make  up  to  everybody,"  explained  the  mother, 
and  the  manner  of  her  speech  was  such  a  frank  tribute  that 
Alison  flushed.  There  had  been,  too,  in  the  look  the  quick 
sympathy  for  bereavement  of  the  poor. 

"  Aren't  they  nice  ?  "  Alison  leaned  over  and  whispered 
to  H  odder,  when  the  woman  had  turned  back.  "  One  thing, 
at  least,  I  shall  never  regret,  —  that  I  shall  have  to  ride 
the  rest  of  my  life  in  the  street  cars.  I  love  them.  That 
is  probably  my  only  qualification,  dear,  for  a  clergyman's 
wife." 

Hodder  laughed.  "It  strikes  me,"  he  said,  "as  the 
supreme  one." 

They  came  at  length  to  Mr.  Bentley's  door,  flung  open 


504  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

in  its  usual  wide  hospitality  by  Sam.  Whatever  their 
fortunes,  they  would  always  be  welcome  here.  .  .  .  But  it 
turned  out,  in  answer  to  their  question,  that  their  friend 
was  not  at  home. 

"  No,  sah,"  said  Sam,  bowing  and  smiling  benignantly, 
"  but  he  done  tole  me  to  say,  when  you  and  Miss  Alison 
come,  hit  was  to  make  no  diffunce,  dat  you  bofe  was  to 
have  supper  heah.  And  I'se  done  cooked  it  —  yassah. 
Will  you  kindly  step  into  the  liba'y,  suh,  and  Miss  Alison  ? 
Dar  was  a  lady  'crost  de  city,  Marse  Ho'ace  said  —  yassah." 

"John,"  said  Alison  with  a  questioning  smile,  when 
they  were  alone  before  the  fire,  "  I  believe  he  went  out  on 
purpose,  —  don't  you  ?  —  just  that  we  might  be  here  alone." 

"  He  knew  we  were  coming  ?  " 

"I  wrote  him." 

"  I  think  he  might  be  convicted  on  the  evidence,"  Hodder 
agreed.  "  But  —  ?  "  His  question  remained  unasked. 

Alison  went  up  to  him.  He  had  watched  her,  absorbed 
and  fascinated,  as  with  her  round  arms  gracefully  lifted  in 
front  of  the  old  mirror  she  had  taken  off  her  hat  and  veil  ; 
smoothing,  by  a  few  deft  touches,  the  dark  crown  of  her 
hair.  The  unwonted  intimacy  of  the  moment,  invoking 
as  it  did  an  endless  reflection  of  other  similar  moments  in 
their  future  life  together,  was  in  its  effect  overwhelming, 
bringing  with  it  at  last  a  conviction  not  to  be  denied.  Her 
colour  rose  as  she  faced  him,  her  lashes  fell. 

"  Did  you  seriously  think,  dear,  that  we  could  have  de 
ceived  Mr.  Bentley  ?  Then  you  are  not  as  clever  as  I 
thought  you.  As  soon  as  it  happened  I  sent  him  a  note  — 
that  very  night.  For  I  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  told  first 
of  all." 

"And  as  usual,"  Hodder  answered,  "yra  were  right." 

Supper  was  but  a  continuation  of  that  delicious  sense  of 
intimacy.  And  Sam,  beaming  in  his  starched  shirt  and 
swallow-tail,  had  an  air  of  presiding  over  a  banquet  of 
state.  And  for  that  matter,  none  had  ever  gone  away 
hungry  from  this  table,  either  for  meat  or  love.  It  was, 
indeed,  a  consecrated  meal,  —  consecrated  for  being  just 
there.  Such  was  the  tact  which  the  old  darky  had  acquired 


LIGHT  505 

from  his  master  that  he  left  the  dishes  on  the  shining  ma 
hogany  board,  and  bowed  himself  out. 

"  When  you  wants  me,  Miss  Alison,  des  ring  de 
bell." 

She  was  seated,  upright  yet  charmingly  graceful,  behind 
the  old  English  coffee  service  which  had  been  Mr.  Bentley's 
mother's.  And  it  was  she  who,  by  her  wonderful  self-pos 
session,  by  the  reassuring  smile  she  gave  him  as  she  handed 
him  his  cup,  endowed  it  all  with  reality. 

"  It's  strange,"  she  said,  "  but  it  seems  as  though  I  had 
been  doing  it  all  my  life,  instead  of  just  beginning." 

"  And  you  do  it  as  though  you  had, "  he  declared. 

"  Which  is  a  proof, "  she  replied,  "  of  the  superior 
adaptability  of  women." 

He  did  not  deny  it.  He  would  not  then,  in  truth,  have 
disputed  her  wildest  statement.  .  .  .  But  presently,  after 
they  had  gone  back  into  the  library  and  were  seated  side 
by  side  before  the  coals,  they  spoke  again  of  serious  things, 
marvelling  once  more  at  a  happiness  which  could  be  tinged 
and  yet  umnarred  by  vicarious  sorrow.  Theirs  was  the 
soberer,  profounder  happiness  of  gratitude  and  wonder, 
too  wise  to  exult,  but  which  of  itself  is  exalted;  the 
happiness  which  praises,  and  passes  understanding. 

"There  are  many  things  I  want  to  say  to  you,  John," 
she  told  him,  once,  "  and  they  trouble  me  a  little.  It  is 
only  because  I  am  so  utterly  devoted  to  you  that  I  wish  you 
to  know  me  as  I  am.  I  have  always  had  queer  views,  and 
although  much  has  happened  to  change  me  since  I  have 
known  and  loved  you,  1  am  not  quite  sure  how  much  those 
views  have  changed.  Love,"  she  added,  "  plays  such  havoc 
with  one's  opinions." 

She  returned  his  smile,  but  with  knitted  brows. 

"  It's  really  serious  —  you  needn't  laugh.  And  it's  only 
fair  to  you  to  let  you  know  the  kind  of  a  wife  you  are 
getting,  before  it  is  too  late.  For  instance,  I  believe  in 
divorce,  although  I  can't  imagine  it  for  us.  One  never 
can,  I  suppose,  in  this  condition  —  that's  the  trouble.  I 
have  seen  so  many  immoral  marriages  that  I  can't  think 
God  intends  people  to  live  degraded.  And  I'm  sick 


506  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE  CUP 

and  tired  of  the  argument  that  an  indissoluble  marriage 
under  all  conditions  is  good  for  society.  That  a  man  or 
woman,  the  units  of  society,  should  violate  the  divine  in 
themselves  for  the  sake  of  society  is  absurd.  They  are 
merely  setting  an  example  to  their  children  to  do  the  same 
thing,  which  means  that  society  in  that  respect  will  never 
get  any  better.  In  this  love  that  has  come  to  us  we  have 
achieved  an  ideal  which  I  have  never  thought  to  reach. 
Oh,  John,  I'm  sure  you  won't  misunderstand  me  when  I  say 
that  I  would  rather  die  than  have  to  lower  it." 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I  shall  not  misunderstand  you." 

"  Even  though  it  is  so  difficult  to  put  into  words  what  I 
mean.  I  don't  feel  that  we  really  need  the  marriage  ser 
vice,  since  God  has  already  joined  us  together.  And  it  is 
not  through  our  own  wills,  somehow,  but  through  his. 
Divorce  would  not  only  be  a  crime  against  the  spirit,  it 
would  be  an  impossibility  while  we  feel  as  we  do.  But  if 
love  should  cease,  then  God  himself  would  have  divorced 
us,  punished  us  by  taking  away  a  priceless  gift  of  which 
we  were  not  worthy.  He  would  have  shut  the  gates  of 
Eden  in  our  faces  because  we  had  sinned  against  the  Spirit. 
It  would  be  quite  as  true  to  say  '  whom  God  has  put  asunder 
no  man  may  join  together.'  Am  I  hurting  you  ?  " 

Her  hand  was  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  the  act  of 
laying  his  own  on  it  was  an  assurance  stronger  than  words. 
Alison  sighed. 

"  Yes,  I  believed  you  would  understand,  even  though  I  ex 
pressed  myself  badly,  —  that  you  would  help  me,  that  you 
have  found  a  solution.  I  used  to  regard  the  marriage 
service  as  a  compromise,  as  a  lowering  of  the  ideal,  as 
something  mechanical  and  rational  put  in  the  place  of  the 
spiritual ;  that  it  was  making  the  Church,  and  therefore 
God,  conform  to  the  human  notion  of  what  the  welfare  of 
society  ought  to  be.  And  it  is  absurd  to  promise  to  love. 
We  have  no  control  over  our  affections.  They  are  in  God's 
hands,  to  grant  or  withdraw. 

"And  yet  I  am  sure  —  this  is  new  since  I  have  known 
you  —  that  if  such  a  great  love  as  ours  be  withdrawn  it 
would  be  an  unpardonable  wrong  for  either  of  us  to  marry 


LIGHT  507 

again.  That  is  what  puzzles  me  —  confounds  the  wisdom 
I  used  to  have,  and  which  in  my  littleness  and  pride  I 
thought  so  sufficient.  I  didn't  believe  in  God,  but  now  I 
feel  him,  through  you,  though  I  cannot  define  him.  And 
one  of  many  reasons  why  I  could  not  believe  in  Christ  was 
because  I  took  it  for  granted  that  he  taught,  among  other 
things,  a  continuation  of  the  marriage  relation  after  love 
had  ceased  to  justify  it." 

Hodder  did  not  immediately  reply.  Nor  did  Alison  in 
terrupt  his  silence,  but  sat  with  the  stillness  which  at  times 
so  marked  her  personality,  her  eyes  trustfully  fixed  on  him. 
The  current  pulsing  between  them  was  unbroken.  .  .  . 
Hodder's  own  look,  as  he  gazed  into  the  grate,  was  that 
of  a  seer. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  length,  "  it  is  by  the  spirit  and  not  the 
letter  of  our  Lord's  teaching  that  we  are  guided.  The 
Spirit  which  we  draw  from  the  Gospels.  And  everything 
written  down  there  that  does  not  harmonize  with  it  is  the 
mistaken  interpretation  of  men.  Once  the  Spirit  possesses 
us  truly,  we  are  no  longer  troubled  and  confused  by  texts. 

"The  alpha  and  omega  of  Christ's  message  is  rebirth 
into  the  knowledge  of  that  Spirit,  and  hence  submission 
to  its  guidance.  And  that  is  what  Paul  meant  when  he 
said  that  it  freed  us  from  the  law.  You  are  right,  Alison, 
when  you  declare  it  to  be  a  violation  of  the  Spirit  for  a 
man  and  woman  to  live  together  when  love  does  not  exist. 
Christ  shows  us  that  laws  were  made  for  those  who  are 
not  reborn.  Laws  are  the  rules  of  society,  to*  be  followed 
by  those  who  have  not  found  the  inner  guidance,  who  live 
and  die  in  the  flesh.  But  the  path  which  those  who  live 
under  the  control  of  the  Spirit  are  to  take  is  opened  up  to 
them  as  they  journey.  If  all  men  and  women  were  reborn 
we  should  have  the  paradox,  which  only  the  reborn  can 
understand,  of  what  is  best  for  the  individual  being  best 
for  society,  because  under  the  will  of  the  Spirit  none  can 
transgress  upon  the  rights  and  happiness  of  others.  The 
Spirit  would  make  the  laws  and  rules  superfluous. 

"  And  the  great  crime  of  the  Church,  for  which  she  is 
paying  so  heavy  an  expiation,  is  that  her  faith  wavered, 


508  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE  CUP 

and  she  forsook  the  Spirit  and  resumed  the  law  her  Master 
had  condemned.  She  no  longer  insisted  on  that  which 
Christ  proclaimed  as  imperative,  rebirth.  She  became,  as 
you  say,  a  mechanical  organization,  substituting,  as  the 
Jews  had  done,  hard  and  fast  rules  for  inspiration.  She 
abandoned  the  Communion  of  Saints,  sold  her  birthright 
for  a  mess  of  pottage,  for  worldly,  temporal  power  when 
she  declared  that  inspiration  had  ceased  with  the  Apostles, 
when  she  failed  to  see  that  inspiration  is  personal,  and  comes 
through  rebirth.  For  the  sake  of  increasing  her  member 
ship,  of  dominating  the  affairs  of  men,  she  has  permitted 
millions  who  lived  in  the  law  and  the  flesh,  who  persisted  in 
forcing  men  to  live  by  the  conventions  and  customs  Christ 
repudiated,  and  so  stultify  themselves,  to  act  in  Christ's 
name.  The  unpardonable  sin  against  the  Spirit  is  to  doubt 
its  workings,  to  maintain  that  society  will  be  ruined  if  it 
be  substituted  for  the  rules  and  regulations  supposed  to 
make  for  the  material  comforts  of  the  nations,  but  which 
in  reality  suppress  and  enslave  the  weak. 

"Nevertheless  in  spite  of  the  Church,  marvellously 
through  the  Church  the  germ  of  our  Lord's  message  has 
come  down  to  us,  and  the  age  in  which  we  live  is  begin 
ning  to  realize  its  purport,  to  condemn  the  Church  for  her 
subservient  rationalism. 

"  Let  us  apply  the  rule  of  the  Spirit  to  marriage.  If  we 
examine  the  ideal  we  shall  see  clearly  that  the  marriage- 
service  is  but  a  symbol.  Like  baptism,  it  is  a  worthless  and 
meaningless*  rite  unless  the  man  and  the  woman  have  been 
born  again  into  the  Spirit,  released  from  the  law.  If  they 
are  still,  as  St.  Paul  would  say,  in  the  flesh,  let  them  have, 
if  they  wish,  a  civil  permit  to  live  together,  for  the  Spirit 
can  have  nothing  to  do  with  such  an  union.  True  to  her 
self,  the  Church  symbolizes  the  union  of  her  members,  the 
reborn.  She  has  nothing  to  do  with  law^s  and  conventions 
which  are  supposedly  for  the  good  of  society,  nor  is  any 
union  accomplished  if  those  whom  she  supposedly  joins  are 
not  reborn.  If  they  are,  the  Church  can  neither  make  it 
or  dissolve  it,  but  merely  confirm  and  acknowledge  the 
work  of  the  Spirit.  And  every  work  of  the  Spirit  is  a 


LIGHT  509 

sacrament.  Not  baptism  and  communion  and  marriage 
only,  but  every  act  of  life." 

44  Oh,  John,"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  lighting,  "  I  can 
believe  that!  How  beautiful  a  thought!  I  see  now  what 
is  meant  when  it  is  said  that  man  shall  not  live  by  bread 
alone,  but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the  mouth 
of  God.  That  is  the  hourly  guidance  which  is  independent 
of  the  law.  And  how  terrible  to  think  that  all  the  spirit 
ual  beauty  of  such  a  religion  should  have  been  hardened 
into  chapter  and  verse  and  regulation.  You  have  put  into 
language  what  I  think  of  Mr.  Bentley,  —  that  his  acts  are 
sacraments.  ...  It  is  so  simple  when  you  explain  it  this 
way.  And  yet  I  can  see  why  it  was  said,  too,  that  we 
must  become  as  children  to  understand  it." 

"The  difficult  thing,"  replied  Hodder,  gravely,  "is  to 
retain  it,  to  hold  it  after  we  have  understood  it  —  even 
after  we  have  experienced  it.  To  continue  to  live  in  the 
Spirit  demands  all  our  effort,  all  our  courage  and  patience 
and  faith.  We  cannot,  as  you  say,  promise  to  love  for  life. 
But  the  marriage  service,  interpreted,  means  that  we  will 
use  all  our  human  endeavour,  with  the  help  of  the  Spirit, 
to  remain  in  what  may  be  called  the  reborn  state,  since  it 
is  by  the  Spirit  alone  that  true  marriage  is  sanctified. 
When  the  Spirit  is  withdrawn,  man  and  woman  are  indeed 
divorced. 

44  The  words 4  a  sense  of  duty'  belong  to  moral  philosophy 
and  not  to  religion.  Love  annuls  them.  I  do  not  mean 
to  decry  them,  but  the  reborn  are  lifted  far  above  them  by 
the  subversion  of  the  will  by  which  our  will  is  submitted  to 
God's.  It  is  so  we  develop,  and  become,  as  it  were,  God. 
And  hence  those  who  are  not  married  in  the  Spirit  are  not 
spiritually  man  and  wife.  No  consecration  has  taken  place, 
Church  or  no  Church.  If  rebirth  occurs  later,  to  either  or 
both,  the  individual  conscience  —  which  is  the  Spirit,  must 
decide  whether,  as  regards  each  other,  they  are  bound  or 
free,  and  we  must  stand  or  fall  by  that.  Men  object  that 
this  is  opening  the  door  to  individualism.  What  they  fail 
to  see  is  that  the  door  is  open,  wide,  to-day,  and  can  never 
again  be  closed:  that  the  law  of  the  naturally  born  is  losing 


510  THE   INSIDE   OF  THE   CUP 

its  power,  that  the  worn-out  authority  of  the  Church  is 
being  set  at  naught  because  that  authority  was  devised  by 
man  to  keep  in  check  those  who  were  not  reborn.  The 
only  check  to  material  individualism  is  spiritual  individu 
alism,  and  the  reborn  man  or  woman  cannot  act  to  the 
detriment  of  his  fellow-creatures." 

In  her  turn  she  was  silent,  still  gazing  at  him,  her  breath 
coming  deeply,  for  she  was  greatly  moved. 

44  Yes,"  she  said  simply,  "  I  can  see  now  why  divorce  be 
tween  us  would  be  a  sacrilege.  I  felt  it,  John,  but  I 
couldn't  reason  it  out.  It  is  the  consecration  of  the  Spirit 
that  justifies  the  union  of  the  flesh.  For  the  Spirit,  in 
that  sense,  does  not  deny  the  flesh." 

44  That  would  be  to  deny  life,"  Hodder  replied. 

44 1  see.  Why  was  it  all  so  hidden !"  The  exclamation 
was  not  addressed  to  him  —  she  was  staring  pensively  into 
the  fire.  But  presently,  with  a  swift  movement,  she  turned 
to  him. 

44  You  will  preach  this,  John,  —  all  of  it ! " 

It  was  not  a  question,  but  the  cry  of  a  new  and  wider 
vision  of  his  task.  Her  face  was  transfigured.  And  her 
voice,  low  and  vibrating,  expressed  no  doubts.  44  Oh,  I  am 
proud  of  you!  And  if  they  put  you  out  and  persecute  you 
I  shall  always  be  proud,  I  shall  never  know  why  it  was 
given  me  to  have  this,  and  to  live.  Do  you  remember  say 
ing  to  me  once  that  faith  comes  to  us  in  some  human  form 
we  love  ?  You  are  my  faith.  And  faith  in  you  is  my  faith 
in  humanity,  and  faith  in  God." 

Ere  he  could  speak  of  his  own  faith  in  her,  in  mankind, 
by  grace  of  which  he  had  been  lifted  from  the  abyss,  there 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  And  even  as  they  answered  it 
a  deeper  knowledge  filtered  into  their  hearts. 

Horace  Bentley  stood  before  them.  And  the  light  from 
his  face,  that  shone  down  upon  them,  was  their  benediction. 


AFTERWORD 

ALTHOUGH  these  pages  have  been  published  serially,  it  is 
with  a  feeling  of  reluctance  that  I  send  them  out  into  the 
world,  for  better  or  worse,  between  the  covers  of  a  book. 
They  have  been  written  with  reverence,  and  the  reading 
of  the  proofs  has  brought  back  to  me  vividly  the  long  win 
ters  in  which  I  pondered  over  the  matter  they  contain, 
and  wrote  and  rewrote  the  chapters. 

I  had  not  thought  to  add  anything  to  them  by  way  of 
an  afterword.  Nothing  could  be  farther  from  my  mind 
than  to  pose  as  a  theologian;  and,  were  it  not  for  one  or 
two  of  the  letters  I  have  received,  I  should  have  sup 
posed  that  no  reader  could  have  thought  of  making  the 
accusation  that  I  presumed  to  speak  for  any  one  except 
myself.  In  a  book  of  this  kind,  the  setting  forth  of  a  per 
sonal  view  of  religion  is  not  only  unavoidable,  but  neces 
sary  ;  since,  if  I  wrote  sincerely,  Mr.  Hodder's  solution 
must  coincide  with  my  own  —  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  work  one  out.  Such  as  it  is,  it  represents  many  years  of 
experience  and  reflection.  And  I  can  only  crave  the 
leniency  of  any  trained  theologian  who  may  happen  to 
peruse  it. 

No  one  realizes,  perhaps,  the  incompleteness  of  the  reli 
gious  interpretations  here  presented  more  keenly  than  I. 
More  significant,  more  vital  elements  of  the  truth  are  the 
rewards  of  a  mind  which  searches  and  craves,  especially  in 
these  days  when  the  fruit  of  so  many  able  minds  lies  on  the 
shelves  of  library  and  bookshop.  Since  the  last  chapter 
was  written,  many  suggestions  have  come  to  me  which  I 
should  like  to  have  the  time  to  develop  for  this  volume. 
But  the  nature  of  these  elements  is  positive,  —  I  can  think 
of  nothing  I  should  care  to  subtract. 

Here,  then,  so  far  as  what  may  be  called  religious  doc- 

611 


512  THE   INSIDE   OF   THE   CUP 

trine  is  concerned,  is  merely  a  personal  solution.  We  are 
in  an  age  when  the  truth  is  being  worked  out  through 
many  minds,  a  process  which  seems  to  me  both  Christian 
and  Democratic.  Yet  a  gentleman  has  so  far  misunder 
stood  this  that  he  has  already  accused  me,  in  a  newspaper, 
of  committing  all  the  heresies  condemned  by  the  Council 
of  Chalcedon,  —  and  more  ! 

I  have  no  doubt  that  he  is  right.  My  consolation  must 
be  that  I  have  as  company  —  in  some  of  my  heresies,  at 
least  —  a  goodly  array  of  gentlemen  who  wear  the  cloth 
of  the  orthodox  churches  whose  doctrines  he  accuses  me 
of  denying.  The  published  writings  of  these  clergy 
men  are  accessible  to  all.  The  same  critic  declares  that  my 
interpretations  are  without  "authority."  This  depends, 
of  course,  on  one's  view  of  "  authority."  But  his  accusation 
is  true  equally  against  many  men  who  —  if  my  observation 
be  correct  —  are  doing  an  incalculable  service  for  religion 
by  giving  to  the  world  their  own  personal  solutions,  in 
terpreting  Christianity  in  terms  of  modern  thought.  No 
doubt  these,  too,  are  offending  the  champions  of  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon. 

And  does  the  gentleman,  may  I  ask,  ever  read  the  pages 
of  the  Hibbert  Journal  ? 

Finally,  I  have  to  meet  a  more  serious  charge,  that  Mr. 
Hodder  remains  in  the  Church  because  of  "the  dread 
of  parting  with  the  old,  strong  anchorage,  the  fear  of 
anathema  and  criticism,  the  thought  of  sorrowing  and  dis 
approving  friends."  Or  perhaps  he  infers  that  it  is  I 
who  keep  Mr.  Hodder  in  the  Church  for  these  personal 
reasons.  Alas,  the  concern  of  society  is  now  for  those 
upon  whom  the  Church  has  lost  her  hold,  who  are  seeking 
for  a  solution  they  can  accept.  And  the  danger  to-day 
is  not  from  the  side  of  heresy.  The  rector  of  St.  John's, 
as  a  result  of  his  struggle,  gained  what  I  believe  to  be  a 
higher  and  surer  faith  than  that  which  he  formerly  held, 
and  in  addition  to  this  the  realization  of  the  presence  of  a 
condition  which  was  paralyzing  the  Church's  influence. 

One  thing  I  had  hoped  to  make  clear,  that  if  Mr. 
Hodder  had  left  the  Church  under  these  circumstances,  he 


AFTERWORD  513 

would  have  made  the  Great  Refusal.  The  situation 
which  he  faced  demanded  something  of  the  sublime  cour 
age  of  his  Master. 

Lastly,  may  I  be  permitted  to  add  that  it  is  far  from  my 
intention  to  reflect  upon  any  particular  denomination. 
The  instance  which  I  have  taken  is  perhaps  a  pronounced 
rather  than  a  particular  case  of  the  problem  to  which  I 
have  referred,  and  which  is  causing  the  gravest  concern  to 
thoughtful  clergymen  and  laymen  of  all  denominations. 

WINSTON  CHURCHILL. 
SANTA  BARBARA,  CALIFORNIA, 
March  31,  1913. 


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interest.  It  is  full  of  thrilling  passages  and  rich  in 
the  romance  of  real  life. 

Never  have  London  Bohemia  and  its  people  been 
so  vividly  drawn. 

Manuella,  who  loved  an  earl  but  married  a  very 
great  musician,  is  a  character  not  soon  to  be  forgotten. 

In  her  awakening  and  in  the  tense  scenes  that  fol 
low,  Frank  Danby  has  done  the  most  graphic  art 
since  "The  Heart  of  a  Child." 

"  Concert  Pitch "  is  far  and  away  the  best  novel 
Frank  Danby  has  written. 


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